UC-NRLF 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  NO 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

GIKX  OF 


Received 
Accession  No. 


•Woo 


.    Class  No. 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  NORTHWEST. 


BY 


H.    L.    GORDON, 

Author  of  "Pauline. 


CONTAINING 
PRELUDE — THE  MISSISSIPPI. 


THE  FEAST  OF  THE  VIRGINS, 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  DAKOTAS. 


WlNONA, 

A    LEGEND    OF    THE    DAKOTAS. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  FALL? 

A  LEGEND  OF  THE  DAKOTAS. 


THE  SEA  GULL, 

THE  OJIBWA  LEGEND  OF  THE  PICTURED  ROCKS  OF  LAKE  SUPERIOR. 


MlNNETONKA. 


ST.   PAUL,  MINN. 
THE  ST.    PAUL  BOOK  AND  STATIONERY  CC 


1881. 


COPYRIGHT    SECURED. 


HOPPIN,  PALMER  &  DIMOND, 

PRINTERS, 
MINNEAPOLIS,  MINN. 


I  have  for  several  years  devoted  many  of  my  leisure  hours  to  the  study 
of  the  language,  history,  traditions,  customs  and  superstitions  of  the 
Dakotas.  These  Indians  are  now  commonly  called  the  "Sioux" — a  name 
given  them  by  the  early  French  traders  and  voyageurs.  "Dakota, "  signifies 
alliance  or  confederation.  Many  separate  bands,  all  having  a  common 
origin  and  speaking  a  common  tongue,  were  united  under  this  name. 
See  "Tah-Koo  Wah-Kan"  or  ^ie  Gospel  Among  the  Dakotas"  by 
Stephen  R.  Riggs,  pp.  i  to  6  inc. 

They  were,  but  yesterday,  the  occupants  and  owners  of  the  fair  forests 
and  fertile  prairies  of  Minnesota, — a  brave,  hospitable  and  generous  peo 
ple, — barbarians,  indeed,  but  noble  in  their  barbarism.  They  may  be  fitly 
called  the  Iroquois  of  the  West.  In  form  and  features,  in  language  and 
traditions,  they  are  distinct  from  all  other  Indian  tribes.  When  first 
visited  by  white  men,  and  for  many  years  afterwards,  the  Falls  of  St. 
Anthony  (by  them  called  the  Ha-Ha)  was  the  center  of  their  country. 
They  cultivated  tobacco,  and  hunted  the  elk,  the  beaver  and  the  bison. 
They  were  open-hearted,  truthful  and  brave.  In  their  wars  with  other 
tribes  they  seldom  slew  women  or  children,  and  rarely  sacrificed  the  lives 
of  their  prisoners. 

For  many  years  their  chiefs  and  head  men  successfully  resisted  the 
attempts  to  introduce  spirituous  liquors  among  them.  More  than  a  cen 
tury  ago  an  English  trader  was  killed  at  Mendota,  because  he  persisted, 
after  repeated  warnings  by  the  chiefs,  in  dealing  out  mini  wakan  (Devil- 
water)  to  the  Dakota  braves. 


iv  PREFACE. 

With  open  arms  and  generous  hospitality  they  welcomed  the  first  white 
men  to  their  land;  and  were  ever  faithful  in  their  friendship,  till  years  of 
wrong  and  robbery,  and  want  and  insult,  drove  them  to  desperation  and 
to  war.  They  were  barbarians,  and  their  warfare  was  barbarous,  but  not 
more  barbarous  than  the  warfare  of  our  Saxon  and  Celtic  ancestors.  They 
were  ignorant  and  superstitious,  but  their  condition  closely  resembled 
the  condition  of  our  British  forefathers  at  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
era.  Macaulay  says  of  Britain,  "Her  inhabitants,  when  first  they  became 
known  to  the  Tynan  mariners,  were  litttle  superior  to  the  natives  of  the 
Sandwich  Islands."  And  again,  "While  the  German  princes  who  reigned 
at  Paris,  Toledo,  Aries  and  Ravenna  listened  with  reverence  to  the 
instructions  of  Bishops,  adored  the  relics  of  martyrs,  and  took  part  eagerly 
in  disputes  touching  the  Nicene  theology,  the  rulers  of  Wessex  and 
Mercia  were  still  performing  savage  rites  in  the  temples  of  Thor  and 
Woden. " 

The  day  of  the  Dakotas  is  done.  The  degenerate  remnants  of 
that  once  powerful  and  warlike  people  still  linger  around  the  forts  and 
agencies  of  the  Northwest,  or  chase  the  caribou  and  the  bison  on  the 
banks  of  the  Sascatchewan,  but  the  Dakotas  of  old  are  no  more.  The 
brilliant  defeat  of  Custer,  by  Sitting  Bull  and  his  braves,  was  their  last 
grand  rally  against  the  resistless  march  of  the  sons  of  the  Saxons  and  the 
Celts.  The  plow-shares  of  a  superior  race  are  fast  leveling  the  sacred 
mounds  of  their  dead.  But  yesterday,  the  shores  of  our  lakes,  and  our 
rivers,  were  dotted  with  their  tepees.  Their  light  canoes  glided  over 
our  waters,  and  their  hunters  chased  the  deer  and  the  buffalo  on  the  sites 
of  our  cities.  To-day,  they  are  not.  Let  us  do  justice  to  their  memory, 
for  there  was  much  that  was  noble  in  their  natures. 

In  the  following  Dakota  Legends  I  have  endeavored  to  faithfully  repre 
sent  many  of  the  customs  and  superstitions,  and  some  of  the  traditions,  of 
that  people.  I  have  taken  very  little  "poetic  license"  with  their  traditions; 
none,  whatever,  with  their  customs  and  superstitions.  In  my  studies  for 


PREFACE.  v 

these  Legends  I  have  been  greatly  aided  by  Rev.  S.  R.  Riggs,  author  of 
the  Grammar  and  Dictionary  of  the  Dakota  language,  "Tah-Koo  Wah- 
Kan, "  £c.,  and  for  many  years  a  missionary  among  the  Dakotas.  He  has 
patiently  answered  my  numerous  inquiries  and  given  me  valuable  informa 
tion.  I  am  also  indebted  to  Gen.  H.  H.  Sibley,  one  of  the  earliest 
American  traders  among  them,  and  to  Rev.  S.  W.  Pond,  of  Shakopee, 
one  of  the  first  Protestant  missionaries  to  these  people,  and  himself  the 
author  of  poetical  versions  of  some  of  their  principal  legends;  to  Mrs. 
Eastman's  "Dacotah,"  and  last,  but  not  least,  to  the  Rev.  E.  D.  Neill, 
whose  admirable  "History  of  Minnesota"  so  fully  and  faithfully  presents 
almost  all  that  is  known  of  the  history,  traditions,  customs,  manners  and 
superstitions  of  the-  Dakotas. 

In  Winona  I  have  "tried  my  hand"  on  Hexameter  verse.  With  what 
success,  I  leave  to  those  who  are  better  able  to  judge  than  I.  If  I  have 
failed,  I  have  but  added  another  failure  to  the  numerous  vain  attempts  to 
naturalize  Hexameter  verse  in  the  English  language. 

The  Earl  of  Derby,  in  the  preface  to  his  translation  of  the  Iliad,  calls 
it  "That  'pestilent  heresy'  of  the  so-called  English  Hexameter;  a  metre 
wholly  repugnant  to  the  genius  of  our  language;  which  can  only  be 
pressed  into  the  service  by  a  violation  of  every  rule  of  prosody. "  Lord 
Kames,  in  his  "Elements  of  Criticism,"  says,  "Many  attempts  have  been 
made  to  introduce  Hexameter  verse  into  the  living  languages,  but  without 
success.  The  English  language,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  is  not  susceptible 
of  this  melody,  and  my  reasons  are  these :  First,  the  polysyllables  in 
Latin  and  Greek  are  finely  diversified  by  long  and  short  syllables,  a  cir 
cumstance  that  qualifies  them  for  the  melody  of  Hexameter  verse :  ours 
are  extremely  ill  qualified  for  that  service,  because  they  super-abound  in 
short  syllables.  Secondly,  the  bulk  of  our  monosyllables  are  arbitrary 
with  regard  to  length,  which  is  an  unlucky  circumstance  in  Hexameter. 

*  *  *  In  Latin  and  Greek  Hexameter  invariable  sounds  direct 
and  ascertain  ,the  melody.  English  Hexameter  would  be  destitute  of 


vi  PREFACE. 

melody,  unless  by  artful  pronunciation;  because  of  necessity  the  bulk  of 
it?  sounds  must  be  arbitrary.  The  pronunciation  is  easy  in  a  simple  move 
ment  of  alternate  long  and  short  syllables;  but  would  be  perplexing  and 
unpleasant  in  the  diversified  movement  of  Hexameter  verse. " 

Beautiful  as  is  the  Evangeline  of  Longfellow,  his  Hexameter  lines  are 
sometimes  hard  to  scan,  and  often  grate  harshly  on  the  ear.  He  is  fre 
quently  forced  to  divide  a  word  by  the  central  or  pivotal  pause  of  the 
line,  and  sometimes  to  make  a  pause  in  the  sense  where  the  rhythm  for 
bids  it.  Take  for  example  some  of  the  opening  lines  of  Evangeline: 

"This  is  the  forest  prime||val.     The  murmuring  pines  and  the  hemlocks, 
Bearded  with  moss,  and  in  gar]|ments  green,  indistinct  in  the  twilight. 

Loud  from  its  rocky  cavjlerns,  the  deep-voiced  neighboring  ocean 
Speaks,  and  in  accents  disconsolate  answers  the  wail  of  the  forest. 

Lay  in  the  fruitful  val||ley.     Vast  meadows  stretched  to  the  eastward." 

Again,  in  order  to  comply  with  the  Greek  and  Latin  rule  of  beginning 
each  line  with  a  long  syllable,  he  is  compelled  to  emphasize  words 
contrary  to  the  sense.  Examples : 

In  the  Acadian  land,  on  the  shores  of  the  Basin  of  Minas. 
-SVwz^vvhat  apart  from  the  vil||lage,  and  nearer  the  Basin  of  Minas. 
But  a  celestial  brightness — a  more  etherial  beauty. 
And  the  retreating  sun  the  sign  of  the  scorpion  enters. 
7«-doors,  warmed  by  the  wide- 1| mouthed  fireplace  idly  the  farmer, 
Four  times  the  sun  had  ris]|en  and  set;  and  now  on  the  fifth  day, 

"Greek  and  Latin  Hexameter  lines,  as  to  time,  are  all  of  the  same 
length,  being  equivalent  to  the  time  taken  in  pronouncing  twelve  long 
syllables,  or  twenty-four  short  ones.  An  Hexameter  line  may  consist  of 
seventeen  syllables,  and  when  regular  and  not  Spondiac,  it  never  has 
fewer  than  thirteen :  whence  it  follows  that  where  the  syllables  are  many, 
the  plurality  must  be  short;  where  few,  the  plurality  must  be  long. 

This  line  is  susceptible  of  much  variety  as  to  the  succession  of  long 
and  short  syllables.  It  is  however  subject  to  laws  that  confine  its  variety 
within  certain  limits.  *  *  * 


PREFACE.  vii 

i  st.  The  line  must  always  commence  with  a  long  syllable,  and  close 
with  two  long  preceded  by  two  short. 

2(i.  More  than  two  short  syllables  can  never  be  found  together,  nor 
fewer  than  two. 

3d.  Two  long  syllables  which  have  been  preceded  by  two  short  can1 
not  also  be  followed  by  two  short. 

These  few  rules  fulfill  all  the  conditions  of  an  Hexameter  line  with 
relation  to  order  of  arrangement.  " — Lord  Kanies,  "Elements  of  Criticism. " 

One  who  attempts  to  write  English  Hexameter,  under  the  Greek  and 
Latin  rules,  will  speedily  be  made  aware  that  the  English  language  "super- 
abounds  in  short  syllables. "  Why  then  should  we  rigidly  adhere  to  rules 
repugnant  to  the  genius  of  our  language,  if  they  can  be  modified  so  as  to 
adapt  the  sonorous  Hexameter  to  the  structure  of  our  mother-tongue?' 
Can  they  be  so  modified?  I  have  attempted  it.  I  venture  to  change 
them  as  follows : 

i  st.  By  beginning  each  line  with  a  short  syllable  instead  of  a  long  one. 
And  it  will  be  seen  that  I  often  begin  a  line  with  two  short  syllables. 

2d.     By  often  using  one  short  syllable  unaccompanied  by  another. 

3d.  I  have  increased  the  average  number  of  syllables  in  the  line  to- 
better  adapt  it  to  our  super-abundance  of  short  syllables. 

4th.  In  Winona  I  have  introduced  a  rhyme  at  the  pivotal  pause  of  the 
line,  not  because  my  Hexameter  requires  it,  but  because  I  think  it 
increases  the  melody,  and  more  emphatically  marks  the  central  pause. 

I  am  not  quite  sure  that,  in  a  long  poem,  the  rhyme  is  not  detrimental. 
That  depends  greatly,  however,  upon  the  skill  with  which  it  is  handled- 
Surely  the  same  Hexameter  can  be  written  as  smoothly  and  more  vigor 
ously  without  rhyme.  Rhyme  adds  greatly  to  the  labor  of  compo 
sition;  it  rarely  assists,  but  often  hinders,  the  expression  of  the  sense 
which  the  author  would  convey.  At  times  I  have  been  on  the  point  of 
abandoning  it  in  despair,  but  after  having  been  under  the  hammer  and  the 


viii  PREFACE. 

file,  at  intervals,  for  the  last  four  years,  Winona  is  at  last  done,  if  not 
finished. 

It  will  be  observed  that  I  have  slightly  changed  the  length  and  the 
rhythm  of  the  old  Hexameter  line;  but  it  is  still  Hexameter,  and,  I  think, 
improved.  I  am  not  afraid  of  intelligent  criticism.  I  invoke  it,  and  will 
•endeavor  to  profit  by  it  in  the  future  as  in  the  past. 

The  reception,  of  my  "Pauline,"  at  home  and  abroad,  has  been  so 
flattering  that  I  have  been  encouraged  to  attempt  something  better.  That 
was  my  first  real  effort  and  full  of  crudities;  but  if  the  Legends  are 
received  by  our  best  critics  as  well  as  "Pauline"  was  received,  I  shall  be 
well  pleased  with  my  efforts. 

After  much  thought  I  have  decided  to  publish  the  first  edition  of  my 
Legends  here  at  home. 

i  st.  Because  they  pertain  particularly  to  the  lakes  and  rivers,  to  the 
fair  forests  and  fertile  fields  of  our  own  Minnesota;  and  ought  to  be 
appreciated  here  if  anywhere. 

2d.  Because  many  of  our  people  are  competent  to  judge  whether 
my  representations  of  Dakota  customs,  life,  traditions  and  superstitions 
.are  correct  or  not ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  reading  public  of  the  North 
west  is  as  intelligent  and  discriminating  as  that  of  any  other  portion  of  our 
•country.  If  these  Legends  be  appreciated  and  approved  by  our  own  peo 
ple,  who  are  familiar  with  the  scenery  described,  and  more  or  less,  with  the 
customs,  traditions  and  superstitions  of  the  Dakotas;  and  if,  beyond  that, 
these  poems  shall  stand  the  test  of  candid  criticism,  I  may  give  them  a 

wider  publication. 

H.  L.  GORDON. 

MINNEAPOLIS,  June  i,  1881. 


A 

. 
UNIVERSITY 


PRELUDE 


THE  MISSISSIPPI. 

Onward  rolls  the  Royal  River,  proudly  sweeping  to  the  sea, 
Dark   and  deep  and  grand,  forever  wrapt  in  myth  and  mystery. 
Lo  he  laughs    along  the  highlands,  leaping  o'er  the  granite  walls; 
Lo  he  sleeps  among  the  islands,  where  the  loon  her  lover  calls. 
Still  like  some  huge  monster  winding  downward  through  the  prairied  plains, 
Seeking  rest  but  never  finding,  till  the  tropic  gulf  he  gains. 
In  his  mighty  arms  he  claspeth  now  an  empire  broad  and  grand; 
In  his  left  hand  lo  he  graspeth  leagues  of  fen  and  forest  land; 
In  his  right,  the  mighty  mountains,  hoary  with  eternal  snow, 
Where  a  thousand  foaming  fountains  singing  seek  the  plains  below. 


10  PREL  UDE. 

Fields  of  corn  and  feet  of  cities  lo  the  mighty  river  laves, 

Where  the  Saxon  sings  his  ditties  o'er  the  swarthy  warriors'  graves. 

Aye,  before  the  birth  of  Moses — ere  the  Pyramids  were  piled — 
All  his  banks  were  red  with  roses  from  the  sea  to  nor'lands  wild, 
And  from  forest,  fen  and  meadows,  in  the  deserts  of  the  north. 
Elk    and  bison  stalked  like  shadows,  and  the  tawny    tribes  came  forth; 
Deeds  of  death  and  deeds  of  daring  on  his  leafy    banks  were  done — 
Women  loved  and  men  went  warring — ere  the  siege  of  Troy  begun. 
Where  his  wayward  waters  thundered,  roaring  o'er  the  rocky  walls, 
Dusky  hunters  sat  and  wondered,  listening  to  the  spirits'  calls. 
" Ha-ha !"7G  cried  the  warrior  greeting  from  afar  the  cataract's    roar; 
"Ha-ha !"  rolled  the  answer,  beating  down  the  rock-ribbed  leagues  of  shore. 
Now,  alas,  the  bow  and  quiver  and  the  dusky  braves  have  fled, 
And  the  sullen,  shackled  fiver  drives  the  droning  mills  instead. 

Where  the  war-whoop  rose,  and,  after,  women  wailed  their  warriors  slain, 
List  the  Saxon's  silvery  laughter,  and  his  humming  hives  of  gain. 
Swiftly  sped  the  tawny  runner  o'er  the  pathless  prairies  then,' 
Now  the  iron-reindeer  sooner  carries  weal  or  woe  to  men. 
On  thy  bosom,   Royal  River,  silent  sped  the  birch  canoe, 
Bearing  brave  with  bow  and  quiver,  on  his  way  to  war  or  woo; 
Now  with  flaunting  flags  and  streamers — mighty  monsters  of  the  deep — 
Lo  the  puffing,  panting  steamers,  through  thy  foaming  waters  sweep; 
And  behold  the  grain-fields  golden,  where  the  bison  grazed  of  eld; 
See  the  fanes  of  forests  olden  by  the  ruthless  Saxon  felled, — 
Plumed  pines  that  spread  their, shadows  ere  Columbus   spread  his  sails, 
Firs  that  fringed  the  mossy  meadows  ere  the  Mayflower  braved  the  gales, 
Iron  oaks  that  nourished  bruin  while  the  Vikings  roamed  the  main, 
Crashing  fall  in  broken  ruin  for  the  greedy  marts  of  gain. 

Still  forever  and  forever  rolls  the  restless  river  on, 

Slumbering  oft  but  ceasing  never,  while  the  circling  centuries  run. 


PRELUDE.  11 

In  his  palm  the  lakelet  lingers,  in  his  hair  the  brooklets  hide, 
Grasped  within  his  thousand  fingers  lies  a   continent    fair    and  wide, — 
Yea,  a  mighty  empire  swarming  with  its  millions  like  the  bees, 
Delving,  drudging,  striving,  storming,  all  their  lives,  for  golden  ease. 

Still,  methinks,  the  dusky  shadows  of  the  days  that  are  no  more 
Stalk  around  the  lakes  and  meadows,  haunting  oft  the  wonted  shore, — 
Hunters  from  the  land  of  spirits  seek  the  bison  and  the    deer, 
Where   the  Saxon   now  inherits  golden  field  and   silver  mere; 
And  beside   the  mound  where  burried    lies  the  dark-eyed  maid  he  loves, 
Some   tall  warrior,   wan  and  wearied,   in   the  misty  moonlight  moves. 
See — he   stands   erect   and    lingers — stoic  still,  but  loth  to   go — 
Clutching  in  his  tawny  fingers  feathered  shaft  and   polished    bow. 
Never  wail   or  moan   he   utters  and   no  tear  is  on  his  face, 
But  a  warrior's   curse   he  mutters   on   the  crafty   Saxon    race. 

0  thou  dark,   mysterious  River,   speak   and   tell  thy  tales  to  me; 
Seal  not    up  thy  lips  forever — veiled  in   mist  and  mystery. 

1  will  sit  and  lowly  listen   at  the   phantom-haunted  falls, 
Where  thy  waters  foam  and  glisten   o'er  the  rugged,  rocky   walls, 
Till   some   spirit  of   the   olden,  mystic,   weird,   romantic   days 

Shall  emerge  and  pour  her  golden   tales  and  legends   through  my  lays. 

Then   again   the   elk   and  bison   on  thy  grassy  banks   shall  feed, 

And   along  the  low  horizon   shall  the  plumed  hunter  speed; 

Then   again   on  lake  and  river  shall   the   silent  birch   canoe 

Bear  the  brave  with  bow  and   quiver  on  his   way  to   war   or   woo: 

Then   the   beaver  on  the   meadow   shall  rebuild  his  broken   wall, 

And   the   wolf  shall  chase  his  shadow  and  his  mate   the    panther  call. 

From  the  prairies  and  the  regions  where  the    pine-plumed  forest  grows 

Shall  arise  the  tawny  legions  with  their  lances  and  their  bows; 

And  again  the  shouts  of  battle  shall  resound  along  the  plain, 

Bows  shall  twang  and  quivers  rattle,  women  wail   their    warriors    slain. 


ICE    SCENE FALLS    OF    ST.    ANTHONY. 


THE  FEAST  OE  THE  VIRGINS, 


A  LEGEND  OF  THE  DAKOTAS. 

(In  pronouncing  Dakota  words  give  "a"  the  sound  of  "ah" — "e"  the  sound  of  "a" — 
"i"  the  sound  of  "e"  and  "u"  the  sound  of  "oo,"  sound  "ee"  as  in  English.  The  nu 
merals,  I,  2,  etc.,  refer  to  explanatory  notes  in  the  appendix.) 


THE  GAME  OF  BALL.2 

Clear  was  the   sky   as   a   silver  shield; 
The  bright  sun  blazed  on  the  frozen   field. 
On  ice-bound  river  and  white-robed  prairie 
The  diamonds  gleamed  in   the  flame   of  noon; 
But   cold  and  keen  were  the   breezes   airy 
Wa-zi-ya3    blew  from   his  icy   throne. 

On  the   solid   ice  of   the   silent  river 

The  bounds  are  marked,   and   a  splendid  prize, 

A  robe  of  black-fox  lined   with  beaver — 

Is  hung  in  view  of  the    eager    eyes; 

And  fifty   merry   Dakota  maidens, 

The  fairest-moulded  of  woman   kind, 

Are   gathered   in  groups   on   the  level   ice. 

They  look   on   the  robe  and  its  beauty  gladdens, 

And  maddens  their  hearts  for  the  splendid  prize. 

Lo  the   rounded   ankles   and  raven  hair 

That  floats  at   will   on  the  wanton  wind, 

And  the   round  brown   arms  to   the  breezes   bare, 


14  THE  FEAST  OF   THE   VIRGINS. 

And  breasts  like  the   mounds  where    the  waters  meet,' 
And   feet   as   fleet   as   the   red  deer's  feet, 
And  faces  that  glow  like  the  full,  round  moon 
When   she  laughs  in  the  luminous   skies  of  June. 

The  leaders  are  chosen  and  swiftly  divide 
The    opposing   parties  on    either    side. 
Wiwaste5  is    chief  of  a   nimble  band, 
The    star-eyed    daughter    of  Little   Crow;" 
And    the    leader    chosen    to   hold    command 
Of  the   band    adverse    is    a  haughty   foe— 
The    dusky,    impetuous    Harpstina, " 
The    queenly    cousin    of  Wapasa. 8 

Kapdza's    chief  and   his    tawny   hunters 

Are    gathered    to    witness    the    queenly    game. 

The    ball    is    thrown    arid    a    bat    encounters, 

And    away    it   flies    with  a   loud    acclaim. 

Swift    are    the   maidens    that   follow    after, 

And    swiftly   it    flies   for    the    farther   bound; 

And   long    and   loud    are   the    peals  of  laughter, 

As    some    fair    runner    is    flung    to  ground ; 

While    backward    and   forward,    and    to    and    fro, 

The    maidens    contend    on    the    trampled   snow. 

With   loud    "Ihd!— ltd!— Ihd!"fl 

And   waving    the    beautiful    prize    anon, 

The    dusky    warriors    cheer    them    on. 

And    often    the    limits    are    almost   passed, 

As    the    swift  ball    flies    and   returns.       At    last 

It    leaps    the    line    at    a   single    bound 

From    the    fair   Wiwaste's    sturdy    stroke, 


•• 

. 

THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  15 

Like    a   fawn    that    flies    from    the    baying    hound. 
Wild   were    the    shouts,    and    they   rolled    and   broke 
On    the   beetling   bluffs    and    the    hills  profound, 
An   echoing,    jubilant    sea    of   sound. 
Wakawa,    the    chief,    and    the    loud    acclaim 
Announced   the    end    of  the    well-fought    game, 
And   the    fair    Wiwaste   was   victor    crowned. 

Dark    was    the    visage    of  Harpstina 

When  the  robe    was    laid    at    her    rival's    feet, 

And    merry    maidens    and    warriors   saw 

Her    flashing   eyes    and    her    look    of  hate, 

As    she    turned    to    Wakawa,    the    chief,   and    said : — 

"The   game    was   mine    were    it  fairly    played. 

I    was    stunned   by    a   blow    on    my   bended    head, 

As    I    snatched    the    ball    from    slippery    ground 

Not   half  a   fling    from    Wi waste's    bound. 

And    the    cheat — behold    her!    for    there   she    stands 

With    the    prize    that   is    mine    in    her    treacherous  hands. 

The   fawn    may  fly,    but    the    wolf  is    fleet; 

The    fox    creeps    sly    on    Maga's 10    retreat; 

And    a   woman's  revenge — it    is    swift    and   sweet. " 

She    turned    to  her   lodge,    but    a   roar   of  laughter 

And    merry   mockery   followed    after. 

Little    they   heeded    the    words    she    said, 

Little    they    cared    for   her   haughty    tread, 

For   maidens    and   warriors  and    chieftain    knew 

That    her  lips    were   false    and   her    charge    untrue. 

Wiwastfe,    the    fairest    Dakota   maiden, 
The    sweet-faced    daughter  of  Little    Crow, 


16  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

To    her    teepee    turned    with    her    trophy    laden — 

The   black    robe    trailing    the    virgin    snow. 

Beloved    was    she   by   her  princely    father, 

Beloved    was    she    by    the    young    and  old, 

By  merry   maidens    and    many    a   mother, 

And    many    a    warrior  bronzed    and   bold. 

For  her   face    was    as   fair   as    a   beautiful    dream, 

And    her   voice    like    the    song    of  the    mountain    stream ; 

And   her    eyes   like    the    stars   when   they   glow   and   gleam 

Through   the    somber   pines    of   the    noi'land    wold, 

When    the    winds    of  winter    are   keen   and    cold. 

Mah-pi-ya    Dii-ta, 12    the    tall    Red    Cloud, 

A   hunter   swift   and    a   warrior    proud, 

With    many    a    scar    and    many   a   feather, 

Was    a   suitor   bold    and    a   lover   fond. 

Long  had    he    courted    Wi waste's    father, 

Long   had    he    sued   for    the    maiden's    hand. 

Aye,    brave  and    proud    was    the    tall    Red    Cloud, 

A  peerless    son    of  a   giant    race, 

And    the    eyes    of  the    panther   were    set    in  his   face. 

He    strode   like    a    stag,    and    he    stood    like  a   pine ; 

Ten    feathers    he    wore  of  the   great   Wanmdee;13 

With   crimsoned    quills    of  the    porcupine 

His   leggins    were    worked    to   his    brawny    knee. 

The    bow    he    bent  was    a    giant's    bow; 

The    swift   red    elk    could    he    overtake, 

And    the    necklace    that   girdled   his   brawny  neck 

Was    the    polished   claws    of  the    great  Mato14 

He   grappled    and   slew    in    the    northern    snow. 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  17 

Wiwaste   looked   on    the  warrior  tall; 

She    saw   he   was   brawny   and    brave    and   great, 

But   the    eyes    of  the    panther    she    could   but   hate, 

And    a  brave  Hohe'?3   loved    she    better    than   all. 

Loved    was    Mahpiya   by    Harpstina, 

But    the    warrior    she   never   could    charm    or    draw; 

And   bitter   indeed   was   her   secret    hate 

For   the    maiden    she    reckoned    so   fortunate. 


HEYOKA  WAC1PEE10— THE  GIANT'S  DANCE. 

The    night-sun 1T    sails    in  his    gold    canoe, 

The  spirits 18  walk   in    the    realms    of  air 

With    their   glowing   faces    and   flaming   hair, 

And   the    shrill,    chill   winds    o'er    the    prairies    blow. 

In    the    Tee19  of  the   Council    the    Virgins    light 

The    Virgin-fire 20   for   the  feast    to-night ; 

For   the   Sons    of  Heyoka   will    celebrate 

The    sacred   dance    to    the   giant   great. 

The    kettle   boils    on   the    blazing    fire, 

And    the   flesh   is    done    to    the    chief's    desire. 

With   his   stoic   face    to    the    sacred    East, 21 

He   takes   his   seat    at    the   Giant's    Feast. 

For   the    feast    of  Heyoka22   the   braves    are    dressed 
With   crowns   from  the    bark    of    the    white-birch    trees, 
And   new    skin    leggins    that    reach    the    knees; 
With    robes    of   the    bison    and   swarthy   bear, 
And    eagle-plumes    in  their    coal-black   hair, 


18  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

And   marvelous   rings    in    their    tawny   ears, 

Which   were    pierced  with   the   points   of  their  shining  spears. 

To   honor    Heyoka,    Wakawa   lifts 

His  fuming   pipe   from    the    Red-stone    Quarry. 23 

The    warriors   follow.     The    white    cloud    drifts 

From    the    Council-lodge    to    the    welkin    starry, 

Like    a   fog   at   morn    on    the   fir-clad   hill, 

When    the   meadows    are    damp    and   the    winds   are    still. 

They  dance    to    the    tune    of  their    wild    "Ha-ha!" 
A    warrior's    shout    and    a   raven's    caw — 
Circling    the    pot    and   the    blazing    fire 
To    the    tom-tom's   bray    and    the  rude   bassoon; 
Round    and    round    to    their   heart's    desire, 
And  ever    the    same    wild   chant    and    tune — 
A    warrior's    shout    and   a  raven's    caw — 
«  Ha-ha,— ha-ha,— ha-ha,— ha ! " 

They    crouch,    they   leap,    and   their   burning    eyes 
Flash   fierce    in    the    light    of  the    flaming   fire, 
As   fiercer   and   fiercer   and   higher    and   higher 
The   rude,   wild    notes    of  their    chant    arise. 
They   cease,    they    sit,    and    the    curling    smoke 
Ascends    again    from    their   polished  pipes, 
And    upward    curls   from    their    swarthy  lips 
To    the    God   whose   favor  their   hearts    invoke. 

Then   tall   Wakawa    arose    and   said : 

"Brave  warriors,    listen,    and   give    due  heed. 

Great   is    Heyoka,    the   magical   god; 

He    can   walk    on  the    air;    he    can    float   on    the    flood. 

He's    a   worker    of  magic    and   wonderful   wise; 

He    cries   when   he    laughs    and   he   laughs    when    he    cries; 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  19 

He    sweats   when    he's    cold,    and    he    shivers    when    hot, 

And    the    water    is    cold   in    his    boiling   pot. 

He    hides   in    the    earth    and   he    walks    in   disguise, 

But   he  loves    the    brave    and    their   sacrifice. 

We    are   sons    of   Heyoka.     The    Giant    commands 

In  the   boiling    water    to    thrust    our   hands; 

And    the    warrior   that    scorneth   the    foe    and    fire 

Heyoka   will    crown    with   his   heart's    desire. " 

They    thrust    their    hands   in    the    boiling    pot; 

They    swallow    the    bison-meat    steaming   hot; 

Not  a   wince   on   their    stoical    faces  bold, 

For    the  meat    and    the    water,    they   say,    are    cold; 

And    great   is    Heyoka    and    wonderful    wise; 

He    floats    on   the    flood   and   he    walks   in    the    skies, 

And    ever    appears    in    a   strange    disguise; 

But   he   loves    the    brave    and    their    sacrifice; 

And    the    warrior    that    scorneth    the    foe    and    fire 

Heyoka   will   crown    with   his   heart's    desire. 

Proud   was    the    chief  of  his   warriors    proud, 
The    sinewy    sons    of  the    Giant's   race; 
But    the   bravest  of  all    was    the   tall    Red    Cloud; 
The    eyes    of  the  panther  were  set    in    his    face; 
He    strode  like    a    stag    and   he    stood    like    a   pine; 
Ten   feathers    he    wore  of  the    great  Wanmdee';13 
With    crimsoned    quills  of  the  "porcupine 
His   leggins    were    worked   to    his   brawny   knee. 
Blood-red    were    the    stripes    on    his    swarthy   cheek, 
And    the    necklace    that    girdled   his    brawny    neck 
Was    the  polished  claws    of    the  great   Matd14 
He    grappled    and   slew    in    the   northern   snow. 


20  THE  FEAST  OF   THE   VIRGINS. 

Proud    Red    Cloud    turned    to    the    braves    and    said, 
As   he    shook    the    plumes    on   his    haughty   head: 
"Ho!    the    warrior    that    scorneth    the    foe    and    fire 
Heyoka   will    crown    with   his    heart's    desire!" 
He    snatched   from    the    embers    a   red-hot    brand, 
And    held   it   aloft   in  his    naked  hand. 
He   stood    like  a    statue   in    bronze    or    stone, — 
Not  a   muscle    moved,    and   the    braves    looked    on. 
He    turned    to    the    chieftain, — "I    scorn   the    fire, — 
Ten   feathers   I    wear  of  the   great    Wanmdee; 
Then    grant   me,  Wakawa,   my   heart's   desire; 
Let    the    sunlight   shine    in   my    lonely    tee. 19 
I    laugh  at    red    death    and    I    laugh    at    red    fire; 
Brave    Red  Cloud   is   only    afraid    of  fear; 
But  Wi  waste   is  fair    to    his    heart    and    dear; 
Then    grant    him,  Wakawa,   his   heart's    desire. " 

The   warriors   applauded    with  loud  "Ho!    Ho!"24 
And    he   rlung   the    brand    to  the   drifting    snow. 
Three    times    Wakawa   puffed   forth    the   smoke 
From    his    silent    lips;    then    he    slowly   spoke: 
"Mahpiya  is  strong    as    the    stout-armed    oak 
That    stands   on    the  bluff  by    the   windy  plain, 
And    laughs    at   the    roar    of  the    hurricane. 
He    has    slain    the    foe    and    the    great    Mato 
With   his   hissing    arrow    and    deadly   stroke. 
My    heart    is    swift    but    my   tongue  is  slow. 
Let    the    warrior    come    to    my   lodge   and    smoke; 
He    may   bring    the    gifts;25   but    the   timid  doe 
May  fly   from  the    hunter    and   say    him    no." 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  21 

Wiwaste    sat    late    fn    the    lodge    alone, 

Her    dark    eyes    bent    on    the    glowing    fire. 

She    heard    not    the    wild    winds    shrill    and    moan; 

She    heard    not    the    tall    elms    toss    and   groan; 

Her   face    was    lit    like    the    harvest    moon; 

For   her    thoughts    flew   far    to    her   heart's    desire. 

Far    away   in    the    land    of    the    Hohe'15    dwelt 

The    warrior    she    held    in    her    secret    heart; 

But   little    he    dreamed    of    the    pain    she    felt, 

For    she    hid    her    love    with    a    maiden's    art. 

Not    a    tear    she    shed,    not    a    word    she    said, 

When    the   fair    young    chief   from    the    lodge    departed; 

But    she    sat    on    the    mound    when   the    day    was    dead, 

And   gazed    at    the    full    moon    mellow  -  hearted. 

Fair   was    the    chief    as    the    morning -star; 

His   eyes    were    mild    and    his    words  were    low, 

But   his    heart    was    stouter    than    lance    or    bow; 

And    her    young   heart    flew    to    her    love   afar 

O'er   his    trail    long    covered    with    drifted    snow. 

But    she    heard    a    warrior's    stealthy    tread, 

And    the   tall    Wakawa   appeared,    and    said — 

"Is    Wiwaste    afraid    of    the    spirit    dread 

That   fires    the    sky   in    the    fatal    north?20 

Behold    the    mysterious    lights.       Come    forth. 

Some    evil    threatens, — some    danger   nears, 

For   the    skies    are    pierced  with    the    burning    spears. " 

The    warriors    rally    beneath    the   moon; 

They    shoot    their    shafts    at    the    evil    spirit. 

The    spirit   is    slain    and    the    flame    is    gone, 

And   his   blood    lies    red    on    the    snow -fields    near   it. 


22  THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

But    again   from    the    dead   will    the    spirit    rise, 
And   flash   his    spears   in    the    northern    skies. 

Then    the    chief    and    the    queenly   Wiwaste    stood 

Alone   in    the    moon -lit    solitude, 

And    she    was    silent    and   he    was    grave. 

"And   fears    not    my    daughter    the    evil    spirit? 

The    strongest    warriors    and   bravest    fear    it. 

The    burning   spears    are    an    evil    omen; 

They    threaten    the    wrath    of    a  wicked    woman, 

Or   a   treacherous   foe;    but   my   warriors   brave, 

When    danger   nears,    or    the   foe    appears, 

Are    a    cloud    of    arrows, — a   grove    of    spears. " 

"My    Father,",  she    said,    and   her   words    were    low, 

"Why    should    I    fear?     for    I    soon   will   go 

To    the    broad,    blue    lodge    in    the    Spirit-land, 

Where    my    dark  -  eyed    mother   went    long    ago, 

And   my    dear    twin    sisters    walk    hand    in    hand. 

My    Father,   listen, — my   words    are    true, " 

And    sad    was    her    voice   as    the    whippowil 

When    she    mourns    her    mate    by    the    moon -lit    rill, 

"Wiwaste    lingers    alone    with    you; 

The    rest    are    sleeping   on    yonder   hill, — 

Save    one — and   he    an    undutiful    son, — 

And    you,    my    Father,    will    sit    alone 

When    Sisoka27    sings  and    the    snow   is   gone. 

I    sat.    when    the    maple   leaves   were   red, 

By    the    foaming    falls    of    the    haunted    river; 

The    night -sun    was    walking    above    my   head, 

And   the    arrows    shone    in    his    burnished  quiver; 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  23 

And   the    winds    were   hushed   and    the   hour   was    dread 

With   the   walking  ghosts    of    the    silent   dead. 

I    heard    the   voice    of    the    Water  -  Fairy ; 28 

I   saw   her   form    in    the    moon-lit    mist, 

As    she    sat    on   a  stone    with   her  burden    weary, 

By   the   foaming   eddies    of    amethyst. 

And   robed   in   her   mantle  of    mist   the    sprite 

Her   low    wail    poured    on    the    silent   night. 

Then   the    spirit    spake,    and  the  floods    were    still — 

They   hushed    and   listened    to   what    she    said, 

And    hushed    was   the    plaint    of    the    whippowil 

In    the    silver-birches    above  her   head : 

'Wiwaste, — the   prairies    are   green    and   fair, 

When   the    robin    sings    and    the    whippowil; 

But    the    land    of    the    Spirits   is   fairer    still, 

For   the   winds    of    winter   blow  never   there; 

And   forever   the    songs    of    the    whippowils 

And   the   robins    are    heard   on    the    leafy   hills. 

Thy   mother   looks   from    her   lodge    above, — 

Her   fair   face    shines   in    the    sky   afar, 

And    the   eyes    of    thy    sisters    are   bright    with   love, 

As    they   peep    from    the    tee    of    the    mother-star. 

To    her   happy   lodge    in    the    spirit-land 

She  beckons  Wiwaste    with    shining   hand.' 

"My    Father, — my    Father,    her    words   were    true; 

And    the    death    of    Wiwaste    will   rest    on    you. 

You   have   pledged   me    as   wife    to    the    tall    Red    Cloud; 

You  will   take    the   gifts  of    the  warrior   proud; 

But    I,   Wakawa, — I    answer — never! 

I    will    stain    your   knife    in    my   heart's    red   blood, 


24  THE   FEAST  OF  THE    VIRGINS. 

I    will    plunge    and    sink    in    the    sullen    river, 
Ere    I    will   be   wife    to   the   fierce   Red    Cloud!" 

"Wiwaste, "  he    said,    and   his   voice    was    low, 
"Let   it   be    as    you    will,    for    Wakawa's  tongue 
Has    spoken   no   promise; — his    lips    are    slow. 
And   the   love  of    a   father   is    deep    and    strong. 
Be   happy,    Miciinksee29;    the    flames    are    gone, — 
They   flash    no   more   in    the    Northern    sky. 
See    the   smile    on   the    face    of    the    watching  moon; 
No  more    will    the    fatal   red    arrows  fly; 
For   the    singing    shafts    of    my   warriors    sped 
To    the   bad    spirit's   bosom    and  laid   him    dead, 
And  his   blood   on    the    snow   of    the    North   lies    red. 
Go, — sleep   in   the   robe    that  you  won    to-day, 
And  dream    ot    your   hunter — the   brave   Chaske. " 

Light  was  her   heart    as  she    turned    away; 

It    sang   like  the   lark   in    the  skies    of    May. 

The   round   moon   laughed,    but    a  lone    red    star,30 

As    she    turned    to   the    teepee    and    entered    in, 

Fell  flashing  and    swift  in    the    sky  afar, 

Like   the   polished   point    of    a  javelin. 

Nor   chief    nor   daughter  the  shadow    saw 

Of    the    crouching  listener — Harpstina. 

Wiwaste,    wrapped  in  her  robe    and    sleep 
Heard  not    the    storm-sprites  wail   and  weep, 
As   they    rode    on    the    winds    in    the  frosty    air; 
But    she    heard    the   voice    of    her   hunter   fair; 
For   a    shadowy   spirit   with   fairy   fingers 
The    curtains    drew   from  the   land    of   dreams; 


THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  25 

And  lo    in    her    teepee  her  lover    lingers; 

The    light   of    love    in  his   dark    eye    beams, 

And  his   voice    is   the    music    of   mountain    streams. 

And    then    with   her    round,    brown    arms   she    pressed 

His   phantom   form    to    her    throbbing   breast, 

And    whispered    the   name,    in   her   happy    sleep, 

Of    her  Hdhe   hunter   so   fair   and   far. 

And   then    she    saw   in   her    dreams    the    deep 

Where    the    spirit    wailed,    and    a   falling    star; 

Then    stealthily   crouching   under    the   trees, 

By   the    light    of    the    moon,    the    Kan-6-ti-dan, 31 

The   little,    wizened,    mysterious  man, 

With   his  long   locks   tossed   by  the    moaning   breeze. 

Then    a   flap    of    wings,    like    a   thunder-bird,32 

And    a   wailing   spirit    the    sleeper   heard; 

And    lo,    through   the  mists   of    the    moon,    she    saw 

The   hateful   visage    of    Harpstina. 

But   waking    she    murmured — "And    what    are    these — 

The    flap   of    wings    and    the    falling   star, 

The    wailing    spirit    that 's    never   at    ease, 

The   little  man    crouching   under   the    trees, 

And    the   hateful  visage    of    Harpstina? 

My   dreams    are   like   feathers    that    float    on    the   breeze, 

And   none   can    tell    what    the  omens    are — 

Save   the    beautiful    dream    of    my   love    afar 

In    the   happy   land   of    the    tall    H6he/15 — 

My   beautiful   hunter — my   brave    Chaske. " 

"Ta-tanka!  Ta-tanka!  "33   the   hunters    cried, 
With    a  joyous    shout   at    the   break    of    dawn; 
And    darkly   lined    on    the   white    hill-side, 


THE    FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

A    herd    of    bison    went    marching    on 

Through    the    drifted    snow   like    a    caravan. 

Swift    to    their   ponies   the    hunters    sped, 

And    dashed    away   on    the    hurried    chase. 

The   wild   steeds    scented    the    game    ahead, 

And    sprang   like   hounds   to    the   eager   race. 

But    the    brawny   bulls    in    the    swarthy   van 

Turned   their    polished   horns    to    the    charging   foes, 

And   reckless   rider    and    fleet   foot-man 

Were    held    at    bay   in    the    drifted    snows, 

While  the  bellowing   herd   o'er    the    hill-tops    ran, 

Like    the    frightened   beasts    of    a    caravan 

On    the    Sah'ra's    sands    when    the    simoon    blows. 

Sharp    were    the    twangs    of    the   hunters'   bows, 

And  swift  and    humming  the    arrows    sped, 

Till    ten   huge   bulls   on   the   bloody    snows 

Lay   pierced    with    arrows    and    dumb    and    dead. 

But    the    chief    with    the   flankers   had   gained    the    rear, 

And   flew    on    the    trail    of    the    flying   herd. 

The    shouts    of  the   riders   rang   loud    and    clear, 

As    their   frothing    steeds    to    the    chase    they    spurred. 

And   now   like    the    roar    of    an    avalanche 

Rolls   the    sullen  wrath  of   the   maddened    bulls. 

They    charge   on    the    riders    and    runners    stanch, 

And    a   dying    steed   in  .the    snow-drift  rolls, 

While    the  rider,    flung   to    the   frozen    ground, 

Escapes   the   horns   by    a   panther's   bound. 

But    the   raging   monsters    are   held    at   bay, 

While    the    flankers    dash    on    the   swarthy    rout. 

With   lance   and    arrow    they    slay    and    slay; 


THE   FEAST   OF   THE    VIRGINS.  27 

And    the    welkin    rings    to    the    gladsome   shout — 
To    the    loud    Inas    and    the    wild    Ihds, 34— 
And    dark    and    dead,    on    the    bloody    snows, 
Lie    the    swarthy   heaps    of    the    buffaloes. 

All    snug   in    the  teepee   Wiwaste    lay, 

All   wrapped    in    her    robe,   at    the    dawn   of    day, — 

All    snug   and    warm    from    the    wind   and    snow, 

While    the   hunters  followed    the    buffalo. 

Her   dreams  and    her    slumber    their    wild    shouts   broke; 

The    chase   was    afoot    when    the  maid   awoke; 

She    heard    the  twangs   of    the    hunter's   bows, 

And   the   bellowing   bulls    and   the    loud    Ihds, 

And    she    murmured — "My   hunter    is  far    away 

In    the    happy   land    of    the    tall    Hohe — 

My    beautiful    hunter,   my   brave   Chaske; 

But    the    robins    will    come    and    my   warrior   too, 

And   Wiwaste    will   find    her    a  way    to   woo. " 

And    long    she   lay   in    a   reverie, 
And   dreamed,    wide-awake,    of    her   brave  Chaske, 
Till    a   trampling    of    feet    on    the    crispy    snow 
She    heard,    and  the    murmur  of    voices    low; — 
Then    the   hunters'    greeting — Iho!    Ihd! 
And   behold,    in   the   blaze   of    the    risen    day, 
With    the    hunters    that    followed   the    buffalo,— 
Came  her   beautiful    hunter — her   brave   Chaske. 
Far    south   has   he   followed    the   bison-trail 
With   his  band    of    warriors   so    brave    and    true. 
Right    glad  is    Wakawa   his    friend    to   hail, 
And    Wiwaste    will   find    her    a    way    to   woo. 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

Tall    and    straight   as    the    larch-tree    stood 

The    manly  form   of    the    brave    young   chief, 

And   fair   as    the    larch   in   its   vernal    leaf, 

When    the    red   fawn   bleats   in    the   feathering   wood. 

Mild   was   his   face   as   the    morning    skies, 

And   friendship    shone   in    his   laughing   eyes; 

But    swift   were   his   feet  o'er    the    drifted    snow 

On    the    trail    of    the    elk    or    the    buffalo; 

And   his   heart    was    stouter    than  lance    or   bow, 

When   he   heard   the    whoop   of    his    enemies. 

Five   feathers   he  wore   of    the   great  Wanmdee, 

And    each    for    the    scalp    of    a  warrior    slain, 

When    down    on    his    camp    from    the    northern    plain, 

With   their   murder-cries    rode    the    bloody    Cree. 35 

But    never    the    stain    of    an    infant    slain, 

Or    the   blood    of    a   mother   that    plead    in    vain, 

Soiled   the   honored    plumes    of    the    brave    Hohe. 

A    mountain    bear    to    his    enemies, 

To   his  friends    like    the   red   fawn's    dappled   form; 

In    peace,    like    the    breeze   from    the   summer    seas; 

In    war,   like   the    roar    of    the    mountain    storm. 

His   fame   in    the    voice   of    the    winds    went   forth 

From   his    hunting   grounds  in    the  happy   north, 

And   far  as    the    shores    of    the    Great    Mede36 

The    nations    spoke    of    the    brave    Chaske. 

Dark    was    thex  visage    of   grim    Red    Cloud, 
Fierce    were    the    eyes    of    the    warrior   proud, 
When    the    chief    to    his    lodge    led    the    brave    Chaske, 
And   Wiwaste    smiled    on    the    tall    Hohe7. 


THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  29 

Away   he    strode    with   a    sullen    frown, 

And    alone   in    his    teepee    he    sat   him    down. 

From    the  gladsome   greeting   of    braves   he    stole, 

And   wrapped    himself    in    his    gloomy    soul. 

But    the    eagle    eyes    of    the    Harpstina 

The    clouded   face    of    the    warrior    saw. 

Softly    she    spoke    to    the   sullen    brave : 

"Mah-pi-ya    Diita, — his   face    is    sad. 

And   why   is   the    warrior   so  glum    and   grave? 

For   the   fair   Wiwaste    is    gay    and   glad. 

She    will    sit    in    the    teepee    the    live-long    day, 

And   laugh   with   her   lover — the    brave    Hohe'. 

Does    the    tall    Red    Cloud   for    the    false    one    sigh? 

There    are   fairer   maidens    than    she,    and    proud 

Were    their   hearts    to    be    loved   by   the   brave   Red    Cloud. 

And    trust    not    the    chief    with    the    smiling    eyes; 

His    tongue  is   swift,    but   his   words    are    lies; 

And    the    proud    Mah  pf-ya   will    surely   find 

That    Wahawa's    promise   is   hollow    wind. 

Last   night    I    stood    by  his    lodge,    and   lo 

I    heard    the    voice    of    the    Little    Crow; 

But    the   fox   is    sly    and    his    words   were   low. 

But    I   heard   her    answer   her   father — "Never! 

I    will    stain    your  knife    in    my   heart's   red   blood, 

I    will  plunge    and    sink    in    the    sullen  river, 

Ere    I    will   be    wife    to    the    fierce    Red    Cloud !  " 

Then   he    spake   again,    and   his    voice    was    low, 

But   I    heard    the    answer  of    Little    Crow: 

"Let   it   be    as   you    will,    for   Wakawa's   tongue 

Has   spoken    no    promise, — his    lips   are    slow, 

And   the   love    of    a   father  is    deep    and    strong." 


30  THE   FEAST   OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

Mah-pi-ya    Diita,    they    scorn    your  love, 

But   the    false  chief  covets    the  warrior's   gifts. 

False    to    his   promise    the    fox  will   prove, 

And   fickle   as    snow   in   Wo-ka-da-wee, 3r 

That    slips   into   brooks   when    the  gray   cloud    lifts, 

Or    the    red  sun    looks    through    the    ragged    rifts. 

Mah-pi-ya    Diita   will  listen  to    me. 

There    are   fairer  birds    in    the    bush    than    she, 

And   the   fairest    would  gladly  be    Red    Cloud's   wife. 

Will    the    warrior    sit    like   a  girl    bereft, 

When  fairer   and    truer  than    she   are    left 

That   love    Red    Cloud    as    they   love   their  life? 

Mah-pi-ya    Diita   will  listen    to  me. 

I  love    him   well,— I   have    loved   him    long : 

A    woman  is    weak,    but    a   warrior  is    strong, 

And   a   love-lorn   brave   is    a   scorn   to    see. 

Mah-pi-ya    Diita,  O  listen   to  me ! 
Revenge   is   swift    and    revenge    is    strong, 
And    sweet   as    the   hive    in    the  hollow    tree. 
The    proud   Red    Cloud   will  revenge    his    wrong; 
Let    the   brave  be   patient,  it   is  not  long 
Till    the   leaves   be    green    on    the    maple    tree, 
And   the   Feast    of  the    Virgins   is  then    to   be; — 
The  Feast    of  the    Virgins   is    then    to    be ! " 

Proudly  she    turned    from    the   silent    brave, 
And    went   her   way;   but    the    warrior's    eyes — 
They    flashed  with    the    flame   of  a   sudden  fire, 
Like    the    lights    that    gleam    in    the  Sacred   Cave, y8 
When    the   black   night    covers    the    autumn    skies, 
And    the   stars   from    their    welkin    watch   retire. 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  31 

Three  nights   he    tarried — the    brave    Chaske; 

Winged   were    the    hours  and   they   flitted    away; 

On    the    wings  of  Wakandee30   they  silently   flew, 

For   Wiwaste  had   found   her  a    way    to    woo. 

Ah  little   he   cared   for   the   bison-chase; 

For   the    red    lilies   bloomed    on  the    fair   maid's   face; 

Ah   little  he    cared   for   the  winds    that  blew, 

For    Wiwaste    had  found    her    a   way    to    woo. 

Brown-bosomed    she    sat    on   her   fox-robe   dark, 

Her    ear   to    the  tales    of  the    brave    inclined, 

Or  tripped   from   the  tee    like    the    song   of  a  lark, 

And   gathered    her   hair  from    the  wanton    wind. 

Ah,    little    he    thought    of  the  leagues    of  snow 

He    trode    on  the   trail    of    the   buffalo; 

And    little   he  recked    of   the   hurricanes 

That  swept    the    snow  from   the  frozen  plains 

And  piled    the    banks    of  the    Bloody    River.40 

His   bow   unstrung    and    forgotten    hung 

With   his  beaver  hood   and  his    otter   quiver; 

He    sat    spell-bound   by    the    artless    grace 

Of  her    star-lit    eyes  and  her   moon-lit  face. 

Ah  little  he    cared  for  the    storms    that   blew, 

For  Wiwaste   had   found    her  a   way   to    woo. 

When  he    spoke    with   Wakawa  her  sidelong   eye 

Sought    the    handsome    chief  in    his   hunter-guise. 

Wakawa   marked,  and  the  lilies  fair 

On  her  round  cheeks  spread  to  her  raven  hair. 

They  feasted  on  rib  of  the  bison    fat, 

On    the  tongue  of  the  Ta41    that  the   hunters  prize, 

On  the  savory  flesh  of  the  red    Hogan, 42 

On  sweet  tipsanna43   and  pemmican, 


32  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

And    the    dun-brown    cakes    of   the    goWen    maize; 
And   hour    after   hour    the  young    chief  sat, 
And   feasted   his    soul    on    the   maiden's    eyes. 

The    sweeter  the  moments    the   swifter    they   fly; 
Love    takes   no    account    of  the    fleeting   hours; 
He  walks  in    a  dream  mid  the  blooming  of  flowers, 
And  never  awakes    till    the  blossoms   die. 
Ah,    lovers  are   lovers    the    wide    world    over — 
In   the  hunter's   lodge    and    the  royal  palace. 
Sweet  are    the  lips  of  his  love  to  the  lover, — 
Sweet    as  new  wine  in    a   golden   chalice, 
From    the    Tajo's44    slopes    or    the  hills  beyond; 
And   blindly   he    sips  from  his  loved    one's   lips, 
In  lodge  or  palace   the    wide  world  over, 
The    maddening  honey   of  Trebizond.45 

O    what  are   leagues    to    the   loving   hunter, 

Or   the    blinding    drift    of  the    hurricane, 

When   it   raves    and   roars   o'er   the   frozen    plain! 

He  would  face  the  storm, — he  would  death   encounter 

The  darling   prize  of  his  heart  to  gain. 

But  his  hunters  chafed  at  the  long  delay, 

For  the  swarthy  bison  were  far  away, 

And  the  brave  young  chief  from  the  lodge  departed. 

He  promised  to  come  with  the  robin  in  May, 

With  the  bridal  gifts  for  the  bridal  day; 

And  the  fair  Wiwaste  was  happy-hearted, 

For  Wakawa  promised  the  brave  Chaske. 

Birds  of  a  feather  will  flock  together. 
The   robin    sings  to   his  ruddy  mate, 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  33 

And   the  chattering  jays,  in  the  winter  weather, 

To  prate  and  gossip  will  congregate; 

And  the  cawing  crows  on    the  autumn  heather, 

Like  evil  omens,  will  flock  together, 

In  extra-session,  for  high  debate; 

And  the    lass  will  slip  from  a  doting  mother 

To  hang  with   her  lad    on    the   garden  gate. 

Birds  of  a  feather  will  flock  together, — 

'Tis  an  adage  old, — it  is  nature's  law, 

And  sure  as  the  pole  will  the  needle  draw, 

The  fierce  Red  Cloud  with  the  flaunting  feather, 

Will  follow  the  finger  of   Harpstina. 

The    winter  wanes  and    the    south-wind   blows 

From  the    Summer   Islands    legendary. 

The  ske'skas40    fly  and    the    melted  snows 

In  lakelets  lie    on    the    dimpled    prairie. 

The  frost-flowers47    peep    from    their  winter   sleep 

Under   the    snow-drifts    cold    and   deep. 

To  the  April   sun    and    the    April    showers, 
In    field    and   forest,  the  baby   flowers 
Lift    their   golden   faces  and    azure    eyes; 
And  wet  with   the    tears    of  the    winter-fairies, 
Soon  bloom   and  blossom   the    emerald    prairies, 
Like    the   fabled   Garden    of  Paradise. 

The   plum-trees,   white    with  their   bloom    in   May, 
Their  sweet    perfume    on    the  vernal  breeze 
Wide   strew    like    the    isles    of   the  tropic   seas, 
Where    the    paroquet    chatters   the   livelong    day. 
But    the    May-days  pass  and    the  brave  Chaske — 


34  THE  FEAST  OF   THE   VIRGINS. 

O    why    does    the    lover    so    long   delay? 
Wiwaste    waits   in  the   lonely   tee. 
Has   her   fair   face    fled  from   his  memory? 
For  the   robin   cherups  his   mate    to   please, 
The   blue-bird   pipes   in   the   poplar-trees, 
The   meadow-lark    warbles   his   jubilees, 
Shrilling   his    song   in    the    azure    seas, 
Till  the    welkin   throbs    to    his    melodies; 
And   low   is    the   hum   of  the    humble-bees, 
And    the    Feast    of  the    Virgins    is    now   to   be. 


THE    FEAST    OF    THE    VIRGINS.    ' 

The   sun   sails   high   in  his    azure    realms; 

Beneath    the   arch    of    the   breezy    elms 

The   feast   is    spread    by    the    murmuring  river. 

With    his  battle-spear    and   his    bow    and    quiver, 

And    eagle-plumes   in  his  ebon    hair, 

The   chief    Wakawa   himself    is    there; 

And   round   the    feast,    in    the   Sacred    Ring, 48 

Sit   his    weaponed   warriors    witnessing. 

Not  a   morsel    of    food    have    the    Virgins    tasted 

For   three   long   days    ere  the    holy   feast; 

They    sat   in   their  teepee  alone    and  fasted, 

Their   faces    turned  to    the    Sacred  East. 21 

In    the   polished  bowls   lies    the   golden    maize, 

And    the    flesh   of    fawn    on    the   polished    trays. 

For   the    Virgins    the   bloom    of    the   prairies  wide- 

The   blushing   pink    and    the   meek  blue-bell, 


THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  35 

The    purple    plumes    of    the    prairie's   pride, 49 

The    wild,   uncultured    asphodel, 

And   the  beautiful,    blue-eyed    violet 

That    the    Virgins   call    "Let-me-not-forget," 

In    gay   festoons    and    garlands   twine 

With    the    cedar   sprigs50  and    the   wildwood    vine. 

So  gaily    the   Virgins    are    decked    and    dressed, 

And    none  but    a   virgin    may   enter    there; 

And    clad   is  each   in    a   scarlet    vest, 

And    a   fawn-skin    frock    to    the  brown    calves    bare. 

Wild   rose-buds   peep   from  their    flowing   hair, 

And    a   rose   half-blown    on    the   budding   breast; 

And  bright    with    the    quills    of   the    porcupine 

The    moccasined  feet    of    the    maidens    shine. 

Hand   in    hand   round    the    feast    they   dance, 

And    sing   to    the    notes    of    a   rude   bassoon, 

And   never    a   pause   or    a   dissonance 

In    the  merry   dance   or    the    merry    tune. 

Brown-bosomed    and  fair  as    the    rising   moon, 

When    she   peeps    o'er    the    hills    of    the    dewy    east, 

Wiwaste    sings    at  the    Virgins'    Feast; 

And    bright    is    the    light   in   her    luminous    eyes; 

They   glow   like    the    stars   in    the  winter    skies; 

And    the    lilies    that  bloom    in    her    virgin    heart 

Their   golden  blush    to    her   cheeks    impart — 

Her    cheeks  half-hid    in    her    midnight    hair. 

Fair    is  her  form — as    the    red    fawn's    fair, 

And    long   is   the    flow    of    her   raven    hair; 

It   falls  to  her   knees,    and   it    streams  on  the   breeze 

Like    the   path  of    a    stonn    on    the    swelling   seas. 


36  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

Proud    of    their   rites    are   the    Virgins    fair, 

For    none    but    a    virgin    may    enter    there. 

'Tis    a   custom   of    old    and    a  sacred    thing; 

Nor    rank    nox    beauty    the    warriors    spare, 

If    a    tarnished    maiden   should    enter    there. 

And  her  that    enters    the    Sacred    Ring 

With   a   blot    that   is   known    or    a  secret    stain 

The   warrior   who    knows    is    bound    to    expose, 

And    lead    her  forth   from    the    ring   again. 

And   the    word    of    the    warrior   is    sacred    by  law; 

For    the    Virgins'   Feast    is    a   sacred    thing. 

Aside    with    the    mothers    sat    Harpstina; 

She   durst   not    enter    the   Virgins'    ring. 

Round    and    round    to    the    merry   song 

The    maidens    dance    in    their    gay    attire, 

While    the    loud    "Ho-Ho's"    of    the    tawny   throng 

Their    flying   feet   and    their   song  inspire. 

They   have  finished    the    song    and    the    sacred   dance, 

And    hand    in    hand    to    the   feast    advance — 

To    the    polished    bowls    of    the    golden    maize, 

And    the    sweet  fawn-meat  in    the   polished    trays. 

Then    up    from    his    seat    in    the   silent   crowd 
Rose    the  frowning,    fierce-eyed,    tall    Red    Cloud; 
Swift    was    his    stride    as    the    panther's   spring, 
When    he    leaps    on    the  fawn   from    his   cavern    lair; 
Wiwaste    he    caught    by   her    flowing   hair, 
And    dragged    her   forth   from    the    Sacred    Ring. 
She    turned   on    the    warrior.       Her   eyes    flashed   fire; 
Her    proud  lips    quivered    with    queenly    ire; 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  37 

Her   hand    to    the    spirits    she    raised  and    said, 

And   her    sun-browned    cheeks   were    aflame  with    red : 

"  I    am   pure ! — I    am  pure    as    the    falling    snow ! 

Great    Taku-skan-skan 51    will   testify! 

And    dares    the    tall    coward    to    say   me    no?" 

But    the    sullen  warrior    made    no    reply. 

She    turned   to   the    chief    with    her   frantic    cries : 

"Wakawa, — my  Father;    he    lies, — he   lies! 

Wiwaste   is  pure   as    the    fawn   unborn; 

Lead   me   back    to    the    feast,    or    Wiwaste   dies!'r 

But    the   warriors   uttered    a    cry    of    scorn, 

And   he  turned   his   face    from   her   pleading    eyes. 

Then   the    sullen    warrior,   the   tall   Red    Cloud, 
Looked   up   and    spoke   and  his   voice    was  loud; 
But    he    held   his    wrath    and    he    spoke    with  care : 
"Wiwaste    is    young;     she    is    proud   and    fair, 
But    she    may    not    boast    of    the    virgin    snows. 
The   Virgins'    Feast    is    a  sacred    thing; 
How    durst    she    enter    the    Virgins'    ring? 
The   warrior  would   fain,    but    he    dares    not    spare; 
She    is    tarnished    and    only    the    Red    Cloud    knows. " 

She    clutched   her   hair  in    her    clenched  hand; 
She   stood   like    a   statue    bronzed    and   grand; 
Wakan-dee30  flashed    in   her  fiery    eyes; 
Then    swift    as    the  meteor    cleaves    the    skies, — 
Nay,    swift    as    the    fiery   Wakinyan's    dart,-32 
She  snatched    the    knife    from    the    warrior's  belt.. 
And    plunged    it   clean    to    the    polished  hilt — 
With  a    deadly   cry — in    the    villain's    heart. 
Staggering   he    clutched    the  air  and    fell; 


38  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

His    life-blood  smoked   on  the    trampled   sand, 

And   dripped   from   the  knife   in    the    virgin's    hand. 

Then    rose   his    kinsmen's    savage    yell. 

Swift    as    the   doe's  Wiwaste's  feet 

Fled    away   to    the  forest.       The   hunters    fleet 

In    vain   pursue,    and   in   vain    they   prowl, 

And  lurk   in    the    forest    till    dawn   of  day. 

They   hear  the   hoot   of    the   mottled   owl; 

They   hear   the    were-wolf 's 52   winding   howl; 

But    the    swift   Wi waste    is  far    away. 

They   found   no   trace  in    the   forest    land, 

They  found   no    trail   in    the    dew-damp  grass, 

They   found   no    track    in   the    river    sand, 

Where    they    thought    Wiwaste    would    surely   pass. 

The    braves    returned    to    the  troubled   chief; 

In  his   lodge    he    sat   in  his  silent    grief. 

"Surely,"  they    said,    "she   has    turned    a  spirit. 

No    trail    she    left    with   her   flying  feet; 

No    pathway   leads    to    her   far  retreat. 

She   flew   in  the   air,    and  her  wail — 'we    could  hear   it, 

As  she   upward  rose   to    the  shining    stars; 

And   we  heard   on    the    river,    as    we   stood    near   it, 

The    falling  drops    of    Wiwaste's    tears. " 

Wakawa  thought  of  his  daughter's   words 
Ere    the    south-wind   came  and    the   piping   birds — 
"My   Father,   listen, — my   words    are    true," 
And    sad  was  her   voice    as    the   whippowil 
When   she    mourns  her  mate  by   the  moon-lit    rill, 
"Wiwaste    lingers    alone    with    you; 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  39 

The   rest    are   sleeping   on    yonder   hill- 
Save    one — and   he    an   undutiful  son, — 
And  you,    my    Father,    will    sit   alone 
When    Sisoka53    sings    and   the   snow  is   gone." 
His    broad   breast   heaved    on   his  troubled    soul, 
The    shadow,  of    grief    o'er   his    visage    stole 
Like    a   cloud    on    the  face    of    the    setting  sun. 

"She   has   followed    the    years    that    are   gone,"   he    said; 

"The    spirits    the    words    of    the  witch    fulfill; 

For    I    saw    the    ghost    of    my   father   dead, 

By   the  moon's   dim   light    on    the    misty   hill. 

He   shook    the    plumes    on   his    withered   head, 

And    the    wind    through   his  pale    form   whistled    shrill. 

And    a   low,    sad    voice    on    the    hill   I    heard, 

Like    the   mournful  wail    of    a   w'dowed   bird. " 

Then   lo,    as   he   looked    from   his   lodge   afar, 

He   saw  the   glow   of    the    Evening-star; 

"And    yonder,"    he   said,    "is   Wiwaste's   face; 

She  looks   from    her   lodge    on    our   fading   race, 

Devoured   by   famine,    and   fraud,    and    war, 

And    chased    and  hounded   from    woe    to    woe, 

As    the   white    wolves   follow  the  buffalo. " 

And   he  named    the    planet    the    Virgin    Star. 54 

"Wakawa,"    he  muttered,    "the    guilt    is    thine! 

She    was  pure, — she    was    pure    as    the   fawn    unborn. 

O    why    did    I    hark    to    the    cry    of   scorn, 

Or  the    words    of   the    lying  libertine? 

Wakawa,   Wakawa,    the  guilt   is   thine ! 

The    springs    will   return    \vith    the   voice    of    birds, 

But   the    voice    of    my    daughter    will    come    no    more. 


40  THE   FEAST  OF  THE    VIRGINS. 

She    wakened    the   woods    with   her   musical   words, 

And    the   sky-lark,    ashamed   of    his   voice,    forbore. 

She    called  back    the    years    that   had   passed,    and  long 

I    heard    their   voice   in    her   happy    song. 

Her    heart    was    the    home    of    the    sunbeam.     Bright 

Poured    the   stream    of    her    song    on    the    starry   night. 

O    why    did    the    chief    of   the    tall    Hohe 

His    feet   from    Kapoza0     so   long    delay? 

For  his    father   sat    at    my   father's   feast, 

And    he    at    Wakawa's — an    honored   guest. 

He    is    dead! — he    is    slain    on   the    Bloody  Plain, 

By    the  hand   of    the    treacherous    Chippeway; 

And    the  fare   shall    I  never   behold    again 

Of    my   brave    young  brother— the   chief   Chaske. 

Death  walks    like   a    shadow  among   my    kin; 

And   swift  are  the  feet  of  the  flying  years 

That    cover   Wakawa   with   frost    and  tears, 

And  leave  their  tracks  on  his  wrinkled   skin. 

Wakawa,  the  voice  of  the  years    that  are    gone 

Will  follow  thy  feet  like  the  shadow  of  death, 

Till    the  paths  of  the  forest  and    desert   lone 

Shall  forget  thy  footsteps.      O    living  breath, 

Whence    art    thou,    and  whither    so  soon  to  fly? 

And   whence    are    the    years?     Shall    I   overtake 

Their   flying  feet  in  the  star-lit  sky? 

From   his  last   long    sleep  will  the  warrior   wake? 

Will    the  morning   break   in  Wakawa's    tomb, 

As  it  breaks    and  glows   in   the    eastern    skies? 

Is   it  true? — will    the    spirits   of  kinsmen   come 

And   bid  the  bones  of  the  brave    arise  ? 


Jf 

OF 


\o* 


ur  ITY 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  41 

"Wakawa,  Wakawa,    for  thee    the    years 

Are  red    with   blood    and    bitter  with    tears. 

Gone, — brothers,    and  daughters,  and    wife, — all  gone 

That  are    kin  to    Wakawa, — but  one — -but  one — 

Wakinyan   Tanka — undutiful  son  ! 

And  he    estranged  from    his  father's    tee, 

Will    never  return   till  the  chief  shall    die. 

And  what    cares  he  for  his  father's    grief? 

He   will    smile  at    my   death, — it  will    make   him   chief. 

Woe  burns    in   my  bosom.      Ho,    Warriors, — Ho ! 

Raise   the    song   of  red    war;  for   your    chief   must    go 

To   drown  his   grief  in  the  blood    of  the  foe ! 

I    shall  fall.      Raise  my    mound    on    the    sacred    hill. 

Let   my  warriors    the    wish    of   their    chief  fulfill; 

For    my   fathers    sleep    in  the  sacred  ground. 

The    Autumn   blasts  o'er   Wakawa's]  mound 

Shall  chase    the   hair    of  the   thistle's  head, 

And    the    bare-armed   oak  o'er    the   silent    dead, 

When  the   whirling   snows  from    the    north    descend, 

Shall   wail    and    moan    in   the   midnight   wind. 

In   the   famine   of   winter    the    wolf   shall   prowl, 

And    scratch    the    snow   from  the   heap    of   stones, 

And    sit    in   the  gathering   storm   and    howl, 

On   the   frozen    mound,  for    Wakawa's    bones. 

But    the   years    that    are    gone    shall    return  again, 

As    the    robin    returns   and    the    whippowil, 

When    my    warriors   stand    on    the    sacred   hill 

And  remember    the   deeds   of  their   brave  chief   slain." 

Beneath    the    glow    of   the    Virgin    Star 

They    raised    the    song   of   the    red    war -dance. 


42  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

At    the   break    of  dawn    with    the   bow    and    lance 
They   followed   the    chief  on    the   path   of  war. 
To    the    north — to    the   forests    of  fir   and    pine — 
Led   their   stealthy   steps    on    the    winding    trail, 
Till    they    saw    the    Lake    of  the    Spirit55    shine 
Through   somber   pines    of  the    dusky   dale. 
Then    they   heard    the    hoot    of  the   mottled  owl;50 
They    heard    the    gray    wolfs    dismal    howl; 
Then    shrill   and    sudden   the    war-whoop    rose 
From    an    hundred    throats    of   their    swarthy   foes, 
In    ambush   crouched    in    the    tangled    wood. 
Death    shrieked   in    the    twang   of  their   deadly   bows, 
And    their   hissing   arrows    drank   brave    men's   blood. 
From   rock,    and    thicket,    and    brush,    and   brakes, 
Gleamed    the    burning    eyes    of  the    forest  -  snakes. 57 
From   brake,    and    thicket,    and   brush,    and    stone, 
The   bow-string   hummed   and    the    arrow   hissed, 
And    the    lance    of  a   crouching    Ojibway    shone, 
Or   the    scalp -knife   gleamed   in    a    swarthy    fist. 
Undaunted   the   braves    of  Wakawa's   band 
Leaped    into    the    thicket    with   lance    and    knife, 
And    grappled   the    Chippewas   hand    to   hand; 
And   foe    with    foe,    in    the    deadly    strife, 
Lay    clutching    the    scalp    of  his   foe    and    dead, 
With    a    tomahawk    sunk    in    his   ghastly   head, 
Or    his    still    heart    sheathing    a   bloody    blade. 
Like    a   bear   in    the    battle   Wakawa   raves, 
And    cheers    the    hearts    of    his   falling   braves. 
But    a    panther   crouches    along   his    track, — 
He    springs    with    a    yell    on    Wakawa's   back! 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  43 

The    tall    Chief,    stabbed    to   the    heari,    lies    low; 
But   his   left    hand    clutches   his    deadly   foe, 
And  his    red    right    clenches    the    bloody    hilt 
Of  his    knife   in    the    heart    of  the    slayer    dyed. 
And   thus    was   the   life    of  Wakawa    spilt, 
And    slain    and    slayer   lay    side   by    side. 
The    unscalped    corpse  of   their   honored    chief 
His    warriors    snatched    from    the    yelling    pack, 
And    homeward    fled    on    their   forest   track 
With    their   bloody   burden   and    load    of  grief. 

The    spirits    the    words    of  the    brave  fulfill,— 
Wakawa   sleeps  on    the    sacred    hill, 
And   Wakinyan    Tanka,    his    son,    is    chief. 
Ah,    soon    shall    the    lips    of   men    forget 
Wakawa's    name,    and    the    mound    of  stone 
Will    speak    of  the    dead    to    the    winds    alone, 
And    the    winds    will    whistle    their    mock -regret. 

The     speckled    cones    of    the    scarlet   berries58 
Lie    red    and  ripe    in    the    prairie   grass. 
The    Si'-yo59   clucks    on    the    emerald    prairies 
To    her   infant   brood.       From    the    wild    morass, 
On    the    sapphire    lakelet    set   within    it, 
Maga00    sails   forth    with   her    wee    ones   daily. 
They   ride   on    the    dimpling    waters    gaily, 
Like    a   fleet   of   yachts    and    a    man-of-war. 
The    piping   plover,    the    laughing    linnet, 
And    the    swallow    sail    in    the    sunset    skies. 
The    whippowil  from    her    cover    hies, 
And    trills   her    song    on    the    amber    air. 


44  THE   FEAST  OF   THE   VIRGINS. 

Anon    to    her    loitering     mate    she    cries 
"Flip,    O    Will!— trip,    O    Will !— skip,    O    Will!" 
And    her    merry   mate    from    afar   replies : 
"Flip  I  will,— skip  I  will,— trip  I    will;" 
And    away   on    the    wings  of  the    wind    he    flies. 
And   bright    from    her    lodge    in    the    skies    afar 
Peeps    the    glowing   face    of  the    Virgin    Star. 
The  fox -pups60    creep    from    the    mother's    lair, 
And    leap    in    the    light    of  the    rising    moon ; 
And    loud    on    the    luminous,    moonlit   lake 
Shrill    the    bugle  -  notes    of   the   lover    loon ; 
And    woods    and    waters    and    welkin    break 
Into   jubilant    song, — it    is  joyful    June. 

But    where    is   Wiwaste?     O  where    is    she— 
The    Virgin    avenged — the    queenly    queen — 
The    womanly    woman — the    heroine? 
Has    she    gone    to    the    spirits,    and    can    it    be 
That    her   beautiful   face    is    the    Virgin    Star 
Peeping    out   from    the    door    of  her  lodge    afar,  . 
Or    upward    sailing    the    silver    sea, 
Star -beaconed    and    lit   like    an    avenue, 
In   the    shining    stern    of  her    gold    canoe? 
No    tidings    came, — nor    the    brave   Chaske : 
O    why    did    the    lover    so    long    delay? 
He    promised    to    come   with   the   robins    in    May, 
With   the    bridal    gifts    for    the  bridal    day; 
But    the    fair    May -mornings   have    slipped    away, 
And    where    is    the    lover — the    brave    Chaske? 

But    what    of    the    venomous    Harpstina — 

The    serpent    that    tempted    the    proud    Red    Cloud, 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  45 

And    kindled    revenge    in    his    savage    soul? 

He    paid    for    his    crime    with   his    false    heart's    blood, 

But    his    angry    spirit    has    brought    her    dole;01 

It    has    entered    her    breast    and    her   burning   head, 

And    she    raves    and    burns    on    her   fevered    bed. 

"He    is    dead!    He    is    dead!"    is  her    wailing    cry, 

"And    the    blame    is    mine, — it   was    I, — it    was    I! 

I    hated    Wiwaste,    for   she    was   fair, 

And    my    brave    was    caught    in    her    net    of    hair. 

I    turned    his    love    to   a   bitter   hate;  , 

I    nourished   revenge,    and    I    pricked    his    pride; 

Till    the    Feast    of    the    Virgins    I    bade    him    wait. 

He    had   his    revenge,    but    he    died, — he    died! 

And    the    blame   is    mine, — it    was    I, — it    was    I ! 

And    his    spirit    burns    me;    I    die, — I    die!" 

Thus,    alone   in    her   lodge    and   her    agonies, 

She    wails    to    the    winds    of    the    night,    and    dies. 

But   where   is   Wiwaste?      Her    swift   feet    flew 

To    the    somber    shades    of    the    tangled    thicket. 

She    hid    in    the    copse    like    a   wary    cricket, 

And    the    fleetest   hunters    in    vain    pursue. 

Seeing   unseen   from    her   hiding   place, 

She    sees    them    fly    on    the    hurried    chase; 

She    sees    their    fierce    eyes   glance    and   dart, 

As    they    pass    and    peer   for    a    track    or    trace, 

And    she    trembles    with   fear   in    the    copse    apart, 

Lest    her    nest    be    betrayed    by    her    throbbing    heart. 

Weary    the    hours;    but    the    sun    at    last 

Went    down    to   his    lodge    in    the    west,    and   fast 


46 


THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS, 


The    wings    of    the    spirits    of    night   were    spread 
O'er    the    darkling    woods    and    Wiwaste's   head. 
Then    slyly    she    slipped    from    her    snug    retreat, 
And   guiding   her    course    by    Waziya's    star,62 
That    shone    through    the    shadowy   forms    afar, 
She    northward    hurried    with    silent    feet; 
And    long   ere    the    sky    was    aflame   in    the    east, 
She    was   leagues   from    the  place    of   the   fatal   feast. 
'Twas    the   hoot    of   the    owl    that    the  hunters   heard, 
And    the    scattering    drops    of   the    threat'ning   shower, 
And    the    far   wolf's    cry    to    the    moon    preferred. 
Their    ears    were    their   fancies, — the    scene    was    weird, 
And    the    witches03    dance    at    the    midnight   hour. 
She    leaped   the   brook    and    she    swam    the    river; 
Her    course    through    the    forest    Wiwaste    wist 


THE  FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  47 

By   the    star    that    gleamed    through    the   glimm  ering   mist 

That   fell   from    the    dim   moon's    downy    quiver. 

In   her   heart    she    spoke    to    her    spirit  -  mother : 

"Look    down    from    your    teepee,    O    starry    spirit, 

The   cry    of    Wiwaste,    O    mother,    hear   it; 

And    touch    the    heart    of    my    cruel    father. 

He   hearkened    not    to    a    virgin's    words; 

He    listened    not    to    a   daughter's   wail. 

O    give    me    the    wings    of    the    thunder -birds, 

For   his    were-wolves52    follow    Wiwaste's    trail; 

O    guide   my   flight    to    the    far    Hohe — 

To    the    sheltering   lodge    of    my   brave    Chaske. " 

The    shadows   paled   in    the    hazy    east, 
And   the    light    of   the    kindling   morn    increased. 
The   pale-faced    stars    fled    one    by  one, 
And    hid    in    the    vast    from    the    rising    sun. 
From    woods    and   waters    and   welkin    soon 
Fled    the   hovering   mists    of   the   vanished    moon. 
The    young   robins   chirped    in    their   feathery   beds, 
The   loon's    song    shrilled    like    a   winding   horn, 
And    the    green    hills    lifted    their   dewy    heads 
To    greet    the    god    of    the   rising   morn. 

She    reached    the    rim    of    the    rolling   prairie — 

The  boundless    ocean    of    solitude; 

She    hid   in    the   feathery   hazel-wood, 

For   her   heart   was    sick    and  her   feet   were   weary; 

She   fain   would   rest,    and    she    needed    food. 

Alone   by   the   billowy,    boundless   prairies, 

She    plucked    the    cones    of    the    scarlet   berries; 

In    feathering   copse    and    the   grassy   field 


48  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

She  found    the   bulbs   of    the    young   Tipsanna,48 
And    the    sweet    meddct    that    the    meadows    yield. 
With   the    precious   gift    of    his   priceless    manna 
God   fed    his   fainting    and    famished    child. 

9 

At    night    again    to    the    northward    far 

She   followed    the    torch    of   Waziya's    star. 

For    leagues    away    o'er    the    prairies    green, 

On    the    billowy   vast,    may    a   man    be    seen, 

When    the    sun    is    high    and    the   stars    are    low; 

And    the    sable    breast    of    the    strutting    crow 

Looms    up   like   the   form   of    the    buffalo. 

The    Bloody    River40    she    reached    at    last, 

And   boldly   walked   in    the    light    of    day, 

On    the    level   -plain    of    the    valley    vast; 

Nor   thought    of    the    terrible    Chippeway. 

She    was    safe    fro.m    the    wolves    of    her   father's    band, 

But    she    trode    on    the    treacherous    "Bloody    Land." 

And    lo — from   afar    o'er    the    level    plain — 

As    far    as    the    sails    of   a    ship    at    sea 

May    be    seen    as    they    lift    from    the    rolling   main — 

A    band    of  warriors    rode    rapidly. 

She   shadowed    her    eyes    with    her    sun -browned    hand; 

All    backward    streamed    on    the    wind    her   hair, 

And    terror    spread    o'er    her    visage    fair, 

As    she    bent    her  brow    to    the    far-off  band. 

For    she    thought    of   the    terrible    Chippeway — 

The    fiends    that    the    babe    and    the    mother  slay; 

And    yonder    they    came    in    their   war -array! 

She    hid    like    a   grouse    in   the    meadow-grass, 

And   moaned — "  I    am    lost ! — I    am    lost !  alas ; 


THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS.  49 

And    why    did    I    fly   from    my    native    land 

To    die   by   the   cruel    Ojibway's   hand?" 

And   on    rode    the   braves.     She    could   hear   the    steeds 

Come   galloping   on    o'er   the    level    meads; 

And    lowly   she    crouched    in    the    waving   grass, 

And   hoped    against    hope    that    the    braves   would    pass. 

They    have   passed;    she    is    safe, — she    is   safe!    Ah,  no; 

They    have    struck    her    trail    and    the    hunters    halt. 

Like    wolves    on    the    track    of    the   bleeding   doe, 

That   grappled   breaks   from    the   dread   assault, 

Dash   the    warriors   wild    on    Wi waste's   trail. 

She    flies, — but    what    can    her   flight    avail? 

Her   feet    are    fleet,    but    the    flying   feet 

Of    the    steeds   of    the    prairies   are    fleeter    still; 

And    where    can    she    fly    for    a   safe    retreat? 

But    hark    to    the    shouting:— "Ihd!—Ihd!"° 
Rings   over    the    wide    plain    sharp    and    shrill. 
She    halts,    and    the   hunters    come  riding   on; 
But   the    horrible    fear   from   her   heart   is  gone, 
For   it    is   not    the    shout    of  the   dreaded   foe; 
Tis    the   welcome    shout   of    her  native   land! 

Up  galloped    the    chief    of    the   band,    and   lo — 

The   clutched   knife    dropped   from    her   trembling   hand; 

She    uttered   a   cry    and    she    swooned   away; 

For    there,    on    his    steed   in   the   blaze    of    day, 

On   the   boundless    prairie,    so    far    away, 

With   his   burnished   lance   and   his   feathers   gay, 

Sat    the   manly   form    of    her   own    Chaske! 

4 


50  THE   FEAST  OF   THE   VIRGINS. 

There's   a   mote   in  my    eye   or   a    blot   on    the    page, 

And    I    cannot    tell    of    the   joyful   greeting; 

You   may    take    it  for   granted    and    I    will   engage, 

There   were   kisses   and    tears    at    the    strange,  glad    meeting; 

For   aye    since  the   birth    of    the    swift -winged    years, 

In    the    desert    drear,    in    the    field    of    clover, 

In    the    cot,    and    the    palace,   and    all   the    world   over,— 

Yea,   away   on    the    stars    to    the    ultimate    spheres, 

The   language    of    love    to    the  long  -  sought   lover, — 

Is  tears   and   kisses   and  kisses    and    tears. 

But   why   did    the    lover   so    long    delay? 

And    whitherward   rideth    the    chief  to-day? 

As   he   followed   the    trail   of    the   buffalo, 

From    the    tees    of    Kapdza   a   maiden,    lo, 

Came  running   in   haste    o'er    the    drifted    snow. 

She    spoke    to    the    chief  of  the    tall    Hohe: 

"Wi waste   requests    that    the   brave    Chaske 

Will   abide    with   his   band    and   his    coming   delay 

'Till    the   moon    when    the    strawberries    are  ripe   and    red, 

And  then   will    the    chief    and   Wiwaste    wed — 

When    the    Feast    of    the    Virgins    is   past,"   she    said. 

Wiwaste's    wish   was   her   lover's   law; 

And  .so   his    coming   the    chief    delayed 

Till   the   mid -May   blossoms    should   bloom    and   fade, — 

But    the   lying   runner   was    Harpstina. 

And  now   with   the    gifts   for  the   bridal    day 

And  his    chosen    warriors   he    took    his    way, 

And  followed   his   heart    to   his   moon -faced   maid. 

And  thus    was    the   lover    so    long   delayed; 


THE   FEAST  OF  THE    VIRGINS.  51 

And    so    as   he   rode    with   his   warriors   gay, 
On   that   bright    and   beautiful    summer   day, 
His   bride   he   met    on    the    trail   mid -way, 
By   the   haunts    of    the    treacherous    Chippeway.   . 

God    arms    the    innocent.     He   is    there 
in    the    desert   vast,    in   the    wilderness, 
On    the   bellowing   sea,    in    the   lion's   lair, 
In   the   midst   of    battle,    and  everywhere. 
In    his   hand   he   holds   with   a   father's    care 
The    tender   hearts   of    the    motherless; 
The   maid   and    the    mother   in    sore    distress 
He    shields   with   his  love    and   his    tenderness; 
He  comforts   the    widowed — the    comfortless, 
And   sweetens   her   chalice    of    bitterness; 
He   clothes   the    naked — the   numberless, — 
His   charity    covers   their   nakedness, — 
And   he   feeds    the   famished    and   fatherless 
With   the   hand    that   feedeth   the   birds    of    air. 
Let    the   myriad    tongues    of    the    earth    confess 
His   infinite    love    and   his   holiness; 
For   his   pity   pities  the    pitiless, 
His   wayward   children    his   bounties   bless, 
And   his   mercy   flows   to    the    merciless; 
And   the   countless   worlds   in    the    realms    above, 
Revolve   in    the   light    of    his   boundless    love. 

And   what    of    the   lovers?    you    ask,    I    trow. 
She    told   him    all    ere    the    sun   was   low,— 
Why   she  fled   from    the    Feast    to    a    safe   retreat. 
She   laid   her   heart    at   her   lover's   feet, 


52  THE   FEAST  OF   THE    VIRGINS. 

And   her   words   were    tears    and    her  lips   were    slow. 
As    she    sadly   related    the   bitter   tale 
His   face   was    aflame    and    anon   grew   pale, 
And   his    dark    eyes    flashed   with   a   brave    desire, 
Like    the    midnight  gleam   of    the    sacred    fire.65 
"Mitawin, "°°    he   said,    and   his   voice    was   low, 
"Thy   father   no   more   is    the   false    Little    Crow; 
But    the   fairest   plume    shall   Wiwaste    wear 
Of    the    great   Wanmdee13    in   her   midnight   hair. 
In   my   lodge,    in    the   land    of    the    tall    Hohe, 
The    robins    will    sing   all    the  long    summer    day 
To    the    beautiful   bride    of    the    brave    Chaske." 

Aye,    love    is    tested   by   stress    and   trial 

Since    the    finger   of    time    on    the    endless    dial 

Began   its    rounds,    and    the    orbs    to    move 

In    the   boundless   vast,    and    the    sunbeams    clove 

The    chaos;    but  only    by   fate's    denial 

Is   fathomed    the   fathomless    depths    of    love. 

Man    is    the    rugged    and   wrinkled    oak, 

And   woman    the    trusting  and    tender   vine — 

That    clasps    and   climbs   till   its    arms    entwine 

The   brawny   arms    of    the    sturdy    stoke.07 

The    dimpled   babes    are    the    flowers    divine 

That    the    blessing    of    God    on    the   vine   and    oak 

With   their    cooing  and    blossoming   lips    invoke. 

To    the    pleasant   land  of   the   brave    Hohe 
Wiwaste    rode    with  her    proud    Chaske. 
She    ruled   like    a   queen   in   his   bountiful   tee, 
And   the   life    of  the    twain   was    a   jubilee. 


THE   FEAS1    OF   THE    VIRGINS.  53- 

Their   wee    ones    climbed    on   the   father's   knee, 

And  played  with  his   plumes    of  the    great   Wanmdee. 

The    silken    threads    of  the  happy   years 

They  wove   into    beautiful  robes   of  love 

That    the    spirits  wear   in    the   lodge    above; 

And  time   from    the    reel   of    the    rolling    spheres 

His    silver   threads    with    the   raven    wove; 

But  never   the   stain    of    a   mother's    tears 

Soiled    the    shining   web    of  their   happy    years. 

When    the    wrinkled    mask    of  the    years    they   wore. 
And    the   raven    hair    of  their    youth    was    gray, 
Their   love  grew    deeper,    and    more    and    more; 
For   he    was    a   lover  for  aye    and    aye, 
And    ever   her   beautiful,    brave    Chaske. 
Through   the    \vrinkled   mask    of  the    hoary    years 
To    the   loving    eyes    of  the   lover   aye 
The   blossom   of  beautiful    youth    appears. 

At   last,    when    their   locks    were    as   white    as    snow, 
Beloved    and    honored   by   all    the    band, 
They    silently    slipped  from    their  lodge    below, 
And   walked    together,    and   hand   in  hand, 
O'er   the    Shining    Path68  to    the    Spirit -land; 
Where    the   hills    and    the   meadows   for    aye    and    aye 
Are    clad    with    the    verdure    and    flowers    of  May, 
And   the   unsown    prairies   of  Paradise 
Yield   the   golden    maize    and    the    sweet    wild -rice. 
•  There    ever   ripe    in    the    groves    and    prairies 
Hang   the    purple   plums    and    the    luscious    berries, 


54  THE    FEAST  OF  THE    VIRGINS. 

And    the    swarthy   herds  of  the   bison   feed 
On   the    sun -lit    slope    and    the    waving   mead; 
The    dappled   fawns   from    their   coverts   peep, 
And   countless    flocks    on    the    waters    sleep; 
And    the    silent   years    with   their   fingers   trace 
No    furrows   for    aye    on    the    hunter's   face. 


WINONA. 


WINONA; 


When  the  meadow-lark  trilled  o1  er  the  leas  and  the  oriole  piped  in  the  maples, 
From  my  hammock,  all  under  the  trees,  by  the  sweet-scented  field  of  red-clover } 
I  harked  to  the  hum  of  the  bees,  as  they  gathered  the  mead  of  the  blossoms, 
And  caught  from  their  low  melodies  the  rhythm  of  the  song  of  Winona. 

(In  pronouncing  Dakota  words  give  "a"  the  sound  of  "ah," — "e"  the  sound  of  "a," — "i"  the  sound  of  "e' 
and  "u"  the  sound  of  "oo."  Sound  "ee"  the  same  as  in  English.  The  numerals  i — 2,  etc.,  refer  tc 
notes  in  the  appendix.) 


Two  hundred  white  Winters  and  more  have  fled  from  the  face  of  the  Summer, 

Since  here  on  the  oak-shaded  shore  of  the  dark-winding,  swift  Mississippi, 

Where  his  foaming  floods  tumble  and  roar,  on  the  falls  and  the  white-rolling  rapids, 

In  the  fair,  fabled  center  of  Earth,  sat  the  Indian  town  of  Ka-tha-ga.86 

Far  rolling  away  to  the  north,  and  the  south,  lay  the  emerald  prairies, 

Alternate  with  woodlands  and  lakes,  and  above  them  the  blue  vast  of  ether. 

And  here  where  the  dark  river  breaks  into  spray  and  the  roar  of  the  Ha-Ha,76 

Were  gathered  the  bison-skin  tees  of  the  chief  tawny  tribe  of  Dakotas; 

For  here,  in  the  blast  and  the  breeze,  flew  the  flag  of  the  chief  of  Isantees,86 

Up-raised  on  the  stem  of  a  lance — the  feathery  flag  of  the  eagle. 

And  here  to  the  feast  and  the  dance,  from  the  prairies  remote  and  the  forests, 

Oft  gathered  the  out-lying  bands,  and  honored  the  gods  of  the  nation. 

On  the  islands  and  murmuring  strands  they  danced  to  the  god  of  the  waters, 

Unktehee,  °9  who  dwelt  in  the  caves,  deep  under  the  flood  of  the  Ha-Ha;76 

And  high  o'er  the  eddies  and  waves  hung  their  offerings  of  furs  and  tobacco.* 

And  here  to  the  Master  of  life — Anpe-tu-wee,70  god  of  the  heavens, 

Chief,  warrior,  and  maiden,  and  wife,  burned  the  sacred  green  sprigs  of  the  cedar.50 

And  here  to  the  Searcher-of-hearts — fierce  Ta-ku  Skan-skan,51  the  avenger, 

Who  dwells  in  the  uttermost  parts — in  the  earth  and  the  blue,  starry  ether, 

*See  Hennepin's  Discription  of  Louisiana,  by  Shea,  pp.  243  and   256.     Parkman's  Discovery,  p.  246 — 
and  Carver's  Travels,  p.  67. 


58  WINONA. 

Ever  watching,  with  all-seeing  eyes,  the  deeds  of  the  wives  and  the  warriors, 

As  an  osprey  afar  in  the  skies,  sees  the  fish  as  they  swim  in  the  waters, 

Oft  spread  they  the  bison-tongue  feast,  and  singing  preferred  their  petitions, 

Till  the  Day-Spirit70  rose  in  the  East — in  the  red,  rosy  robes  of  the  morning, 

To  sail  o'er  the  sea  of  the  skies,  to  his  lodge  in  the  land  of  the  shadows, 

Where  the  black-winged  tornadoes*  arise — rushing  loud  from  the  mouths  of  their  caverns. 

And  here  with  a  shudder  they  heard,  flying  far  from  his  tee  in  the  mountains, 

Wa-kni-yan,32   the  huge  Thunder-Bird,  with  the  arrows  of  fire  in  his  talons. 

Two  hundred  white  Winters  and  more  have  fled  from  the  face  of  the  Summer, 

Since  here  by  the  cataract's  roar,  in  the  moon  of  the  red-blooming  lilies,71 

In  the  tee  of  Ta-te-psinf  was  born  Winona — wild-rose  of  the  prairies. 

Like  the  summer  sun  peeping,  at  morn,  o'er  the  hills  was  the  face  of  Winona; 

And  here  she  grew  up  like  a  queen — a  romping  and  lily-lipped  laughter, 

And  danced  on  the  undulant  green,  and  played  in  the  frolicsome  waters, 

Where  the  foaming  tide  tumbles  and  twirls  o'er  the  murmuring  rocks  in  the  rapids; 

And  whiter  than  foam  were  the  pearls  that  gleamed  in  the  midst  of  her  laughter. 

Long  and  dark  was  her  flowing  hair  flung,  like  the  robe  of  the  night  to  the  breezes; 

And  gay  as  the  robin  she  sung,  or  the  gold-breasted  lark  of  the  meadows. 

Like  the  wings  of  the  wind  were  her  feet,  and  as  sure  as  the  feet  of  Ta-to-ka;* 

And  oft  like  an  antelope  fleet  o'er  the  hills  and  the  prairies  she  bounded, 

Lightly  laughing  in  sport  as  she  ran,  and  looking  back  over  her  shoulder, 

At  the  fleet-footed  maiden  or  man,  that  vainly  her  flying  steps  followed. 

The  belle  of  the  village  was  she,  and  the  pride  of  the  aged  Ta-te-psin; 

Like  a  sunbeam  she  lighted  his  tee,  and  gladdened  the  heart  of  her  father. 

In  the  golden-hued  Wazu-pe-wee — the  moon  when  the  wild-rice  is  gathered; 

When  the  leaves  on  the  tall  sugar-tree  are  as  red  as  the  breast  of  the  robin, 

And  the  red-oaks  that  border  the  lea  are  aflame  with  the  fire  of  the  sunset, 

From  the  wide- waving  fields  of  wild-rice — from  the  meadows  of  Psin-ta-wak-pa-dan,§ 

*The  Dakotas,  like  the  ancient  Romans  and  Greeks,  think  the  home  of  the  winds  is  in  the  caverns  of 
the  mountains,  and  their  great  Thunder-bird  resembles  in  many  respects  the  Jupiter  of  the  Romans  and 
the  Zeus  of  the  Greeks.  The  resemblance  of  the  Dakota  mythology  to  that  of  the  older  Greeks  and  Ro 
mans  is  striking. 

tTate — wind, — psin — wild-rice — wild-rice  wind. 

JThe  Mountain  antelope. 

§Little  Rice  River.  It  bears  the  name  of  Rice  Creek  to-day  and  empties  into  the  Mississippi  from  the 
east,  a  few  miles  above  Minneapolis. 


^ 

• 
HSITY 

-.Vg^C 

WINONA.  59 

Where  the  geese  and  the  mallards  rejoice,  and  grow  fat  on  the  bountiful  harvest, 
Came  the  hunters  with  saddles  of  moose  and  the  flesh  of  the  bear  and  the  bison, 
And  the  women  in  birchen  canoes  well  laden  with  rice  from  the  meadows, 

With  the  tall,  dusky  hunters,  behold,  came  a  marvelous  man  or  a  spirit, 

White-faced  and  so  wrinkled  and  old,  and  clad  in  the  robe  of  the  raven. 

Unsteady  his  steps  were  and  slow,  and  he  walked  with  a  staff  in  his  right  hand, 

And  white  as  the  first-falling  snow  were  the  thin  locks  that  lay  on  his  shoulders. 

Like  rime-covered  moss  hung  his  beard,  flowing  down  from  his  face  to  his  girdle; 

And  wan  was  his  aspect  and  weird;  and  often  he  chanted  and  mumbled 

In  a  strange  and  mysterious  tongue,  as  he  bent  o'er  his  book  in  devotion, 

Or  lifted  his  dim  eyes  and  sung,  in  a  low  voice,  the  solemn  "  Te  Deitm." 

Or  Latin,  or  Hebrew,  or  Greek — all  the  same  were  his  words  to  the  warriors, — 

All  the  same  to  the  maids  and  the  meek,  wide-wondering-eyed,  hazel-brown  children. 

Father  Rene  Menard* — it  was  he,  long  lost  to  his  Jesuit  brothers, 

Sent  forth  by  an  holy  decree  to  carry  the  Cross  to  the  heathen. 

In  his  old  age  abandoned  to  die,  in  the  swamps,  by  his  timid  companions, 

He  prayed  to  the  Virgin  on  high,  and  she  led  him  forth  from  the  forest; 

For  angels  she  sent  him  as  men — in  the  forms  of  the  tawny  Dakotas, 

And  they  led  his  feet  from  the  fen, — from  the  slough  of  despond  and  the  desert. 

Half-dead  in  a  dismal  morass,  as  they  followed  the  red-deer  they  found  him, 

In  the  midst  of  the  mire  and  the  grass,  and  mumbling  "TV  Deum  landamiis. " 

"Unktomee 72 — Ho !"  muttered  the  braves,  for  they  deemed  him  the  black  Spider-Spirit 

That  dwells  in  the  drearisome  caves,  and  walks  on  the  marshes  at  midnight, 

With  a  flickering  torch  in  his  hand,  to  decoy  to  his  den  the  unwary. 

His  tongue  could  they  not  understand,  but  his  torn  hands  all  shriveled  with  famine, 

He  stretched  to  the  hunters  and  said:    "He  feedeth  his  chosen  with  manna; 

And  ye  are  the  angels  of  God,  sent  to  save  me  from  death  in  the  desert." 

His  famished  and  woe-begone  face,  and  his  tones  touched  the  hearts  of  the  hunters; 

They  fed  the  poor  father  apace,  and  they  led  him  away  to  Ka-tha-ga. 

There  little  by  little  he  learned  the  tongue  of  the  tawny  Dakotas; 

And  the  heart  of  the  good  father  yearned  to  lead  them  away  from  their  idols — 

Their  giants16  and  dread  Thunder-birds — their  worship  of  stones73  and  the  devil. 

*  See  the  account  of  Father   Menard,    his  mission  and  disappearance  in    the  wilderness,  etc.     Neill's 
Hist.  Minnesota,  pp.  104  to  107  inc. 


60  WINONA. 

"Wakan-de!"*  they  answered  his  words,  for  he  read  from  his  book  in  the  Latin, 

Lest  the  Nazarene's  holy  commands  by  his  tongue  should  be  marred  in  translation; 

And  oft  with  his  beads  in  his  hands,  or  the  cross  and  the  crucified  Jesus, 

He  knelt  by  himself  on  the  sands,  and  his  dim  eyes  uplifted  to  heaven. 

But  the  braves  bade  him  look  to  the  East — to  the  silvery  lodge  of  Han-nan-na;t 

And  to  dance  with  the  chiefs  at  the  feast — at  the  feast  of  the  Giant  Heyo-ka.16 

They  frowned  when  the  good  father  spurned  the  flesh  of  the  dog  in  the  kettle, 

And  laughed  when  his  fingers  were  burned  in  the  hot,  boiling  pot  of  the  giant. 

"The  Black-robe"  they  called  the  poor  priest,  from  the  hue  of  his  robe  and  his  girdle; 

And  never  a  game  or  a  feast  but  the  father  must  grace  with  his  presence. 

His  prayer-book  the  hunters  revered, — they  deemed  it  a  marvelous  spirit; 

It  spoke  and  the  white  father  heard, — it  interpreted  visions  and  omens. 

And  often  they  bade  him  to  pray  this  marvelous  spirit  to  answer, 

And  tell  where  the  sly  Chippeway  might  be  ambushed  and  slain  in  his  forests. 

For  Menard  was  the  first  in  the  land,  proclaiming,  like  John  in  the  desert — 

"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand;  repent  ye,  and  turn  from  your  idols." — 

The  first  of  the  brave  brotherhood  that,  threading  the  fens  and  the  forest, 

Stood  afar  by  the  turbulent  flood  at  the  falls  of  the  Father  of  Waters. 

In  the  lodge  of  the  StrangerJ  he  sat,  'awaiting  the  crown  of  a  martyr; 

His  sad  face  compassion  begat  in  the  heart  of  the  dark-eyed  Winona. 

Oft  she  came  to  the  teepee  and  spoke;  she  brought  him  the  tongue  of  the  bison, 

Sweet  nuts  from  the  hazel  and  oak,  and  flesh  of  the  fawn  and  the  mallard. 

Soft  hanpa§  she  made  for  his  feet  and  leggins  of  velvety  fawn-skin, — 

A  blanket  of  beaver  complete,  and  a  hood  of  the  hide  of  the  otter. 

And  oft  at  his  feet  on  the  mat,  deftly  braiding  the  flags  and  the  rushes, 

Till  the  sun  sought  his  teepee  she  sat,  enchanted  with  what  he  related 

Of  the  white-winged  ships  on  the  sea  and  the  teepees  far  over  the  ocean, 

Of  the  love  and  the  sweet  charity  of  the  Christ  and  the  beautiful  Virgin. 

She  listened  like  one  in  a  trance  when  he  spoke  of  the  brave,  bearded  Frenchmen, 
From  the  green,  sun-lit  valleys  of  France  to  the  wild  Hochelagai]  transplanted, 
Oft  trailing  the  deserts  of  snow  in  the  heart  of  the  dense  Huron  forests, 

*It  is  wonderful. 

tThe  morning. 

+A  lodge  set  apart  for  guests  of  the  village. 

§Moccasins. 

||The  Ottawa  name  for  the  region  of  the  St.  Lawrence  River. 


W I  NONA.  61 

Or  steering  the  dauntless  canoe  through  the  waves  of  the  fresh-water  ocean. 

"Yea,  stronger  and  braver  are  they,"  said  the  aged  Menard  to  Winona, 

"Than  the  head-chief,  tall  Wazi-kute,74  but  their  words  are  as  soft  as  a  maiden's; 

Their  eyes  are  the  eyes  of  the  swan,  but  their  hearts  are  the  hearts  of  the  eagles; 

And  the  terrible  Maza  Wakan*  ever  walks  by  their  side  like  a  spirit. 

Like  a  Thunder-bird,  roaring  in  wrath,  flinging  fire  from  his  terrible  talons, 

It  sends  to  their  enemies  death,  in  the  flash  of  the  fatal  Wakandee."t 

The  Autumn  was  past  and  the  snow  lay  drifted  and  deep  on  the  prairies; 

From  his  teepee  of  ice  came  the  foe — came  the  storm-breathing  god  of  the  winter. 

Then  roared  in  the  groves, — on  the  plains, — on  the  ice-covered  lakes  and  the  river — 

The  blasts  of  the  fierce  hurricanes  blown  abroad  from  the  breast  of  Wazi'ya.3 

The  bear  cuddled  down  in  his  den,  and  the  elk  fled  away  to  the  forest; 

The  pheasant  and  gray  prairie-hen  made  their  beds  in  the  heart  of  the  snow-drift; 

The  bison-herds  huddled  and  stood  in  the  hollows  and  under  the  hill-sides, 

Or  rooted  the  snow  for  their  food  in  the  lee  of  the  bluffs  and  the  timber; 

And  the  mad  winds  that  howled  from  the  north,  from  the  ice-covered  seas  of  Waziya, 

Chased  the  gray  wolf  and  red  fox  and  swarth  to  their  dens  in  the  hills  of  the  forest. 

Poor  Father  Menard, — he  was  ill;  in  his  breast  burned  the  fire  of  the  fever; 
All  in  vain  was  the  magical  skill  of  Wicasta  Wakan01  with  his  rattle; 
Into  soft,  child-like  slumber  he  fell,  and  awoke  in  the  land  of  the  blessed — 
To  the  holy  applause  of  "Well  done!"  and  the  harps  in  the  hands  of  the  angels. 
Long  he  carried  the  cross,  and  he  won  the  coveted  crown  of  a  martyr. 

In  the  land  of  the  heathen  he  died,  meekly  following  the  voice  of  his  Master, 

One  mourner  alone  by  his  side — Ta-te-psin's  compassionate  daughter. 

She  wailed  the  dead  father  with  tears,  and  his  bones  by  her  kindred  she  buried. 

Then  winter  followed  winter.     The  years  sprinkled  frost  on  the  head  of  her  father; 

And  three  weary  winters  she  dreamed  of  the  fearless  and  fair-bearded  Frenchmen; 

In  her  sweet  sleep  their  swift  paddles  gleamed  on  the  breast  of  the  broad  Mississippi, 

And  the  eyes  of  the  brave  strangers  beamed  on  the  maid  in  the  midst  of  her  slumber. 

She  lacked  not  admirers;  the  light  of  the  lover  oft  burned  in  her  teepee — 

At  her  couch  in  the  midst  of  the  night, — but  she  never  extinguished  the  flambeau. 

*"Mysterious  metal" — or  metal  having  a  spirit  in  it.     This  is  the  common  name  applied  by  the  Dakotas 
to  all  fire-arms, 
t  Lightning. 


62  WINONA. 

The  son  of  Chief  Wazi-kute — a  fearless  and  eagle-plumed  warrior — 
Long  sighed  for  Winona,  and  he — was  the  pride  of  the  band  of  Isantees. 
Three  times,  in  the  night,  at  her  bed,  had  the  brave  held  the  torch  of  the  lover,75 
And  thrice  had  she  covered  her  head  and  rejected  the  handsome  Tamdoka.* 

'Twas  Summer.      The  merry- voiced  birds  trilled  and  warbled  in  woodland  and  meadow; 

And  abroad  on  the  prairies  the  herds  cropped  the  grass  in  the  land  of  the  lilies, — 

And  sweet  was  the  odor  of  rose  wide- wafted  from  hillside  and  heather; 

In  the  leaf- shaded  lap  of  repose  lay  the  bright,  blue-eyed  babes  of  the  summer; 

And  low  was  the  murmur  of  brooks,  and  low  was  the  laugh  of  the  Ha- Ha;76 

And  asleep  in  the  eddies  and  nooks  lay  the  broods  of  maga00  and  the  mallard. 

'Twas  the  moon  of  Wasunpa.71    The  band  lay  at  rest  in  the  tees  at  Ka-tha-ga, 

And  abroad  o'er  the  beautiful  land  walked  the  spirits  of  Peace  and  of  Plenty — 

Twin  sisters,  with  bountiful  hand,  wide  scatt'ring  wild-rice  and  the  lilies. 

An-pe-tu-wee70  walked  in  the  west — to  his  lodge  in  the  midst  of  the  mountains, 

And  the  war-eagle  flew  to  her  nest  in  the  oak  on  the  Isle  of  the  Spirit. t 

And  now  at  the  end  of  the  dayj  by  the  shore  of  the  Beautiful  Island,J 

A  score  of  fair  maidens  and  gay  made  joy  in  the  midst  of  the  waters. 

Half-robed  in  their  dark,  flowing  hair,  and  limbed  like  the  fair  Aphrodite, 

They  played  in  the  waters,  and  there  they  dived  and  they  swam  like  the  beavers, — 

Loud-laughing  like  loons  on  the  lake  when  the  moon  is  a  round  shield  of  silver, 

And  the  songs  of  the  whippowils  wake  on  the  shore  in  the  midst  of  the  maples. 

But  hark! — on  the  river  a  song, — strange  voices  commingled  in  chorus; 
On  the  current  a  boat  swept  along  with  DuLuth  and  his  hardy  companions; 
To  the  stroke  of  their  paddles  they  sung,  and  this  the  refrain  that  they  chanted: 

"Dans  mon  chemin  j'ai  recontre 
Deux  cavaliers  bien  moutees. 

Lon,  Ion,  laridon  daine, 
Lon,  Ion,  laridon  dai." 

"Deux  cavaliers  bien  moutees; 
L'un  a  cheval,  et  1'autre  a  pied. 
Lon,  Ion,  laridon  daine, 
Lon,  Ion,  laridon  dai.  "§ 

*  Tah-mdo-kah — literally,  the  buck-deer. 

tThe  Dakotas  say  that  for  many  years  in  olden  times  a  war-eagle  made  her  nest   in  an  oak-tree  on 
Spirit-island — Wanagi-wita,  just  below  the  Falls,  till  frightened  away  by  the  advent  of  white  men. 
tThe  Dakotas  called  Nicollet  Island  "  Wi-ta  Waste"— the  Beautiful  Island. 
§A  part  of  one  of  the  favorite  songs  of  the  French  voyageurs. 


WINONA.  63 

Like  the  red,  dappled  deer  in  the  glade,  alarmed  by  the  footsteps  of  hunters, 
Discovered,  disordered,  dismayed,  the  nude  nymphs  fled  forth  from  the  waters, 
And  scampered  away  to  the  shade,  and  peered  from  the  screen  of  the  lindens, 

A  bold  and  and  adventuresome  man  was  DuLuth,  and  a  dauntless  in  danger, 
And  straight  to  Kathaga  he  ran,  and  boldly  advanced  to  the  warriors, 
Now  gathering,  a  cloud,  on  the  strand,  and  gazing  amazed  on  the  strangers; 
And  straightway  he  offered  his  hand  unto  Wazi-kute,  the  Itancan. 
To  the  Lodge  of  the  Stranger  were  led  DuLuth  and  his  hardy  companions; 
Robes  of  beaver  and  bison  were  spread,  and  the  Peace-pipe23  was  smoked 
with  the  Frenchman. 

There  was  dancing  and  feasting  at  night,  and  joy  at  the  presents  he  lavished. 

All  the  maidens  were  wild  with  delight  with  the  flaming  red  robes  and  the  ribbons, 

With  the  beads  and  the  trinkets  untold,  and  the  fair,  bearded  face  of  the  giver; 

And  glad  were  they  all  to  behold  the  friends  from  the  Land  of  the  Sunrise. 

But  one  stood  apart  from  the  rest — the  queenly  and  peerless  Winona, 

Intently  regarding  the  guest — hardly  heeding  the  robes  and  the  ribbons, 

Whom  the  White  Chief  beholding  admired,  and  straightway  he  spread  on  her  shoulders 

A  lily-red  robe  and  attired,  with  necklet  and  ribbons,  the  maiden. 

The  red  lilies  bloomed  in  her  face,  and  her  glad  eyes  gave  thanks  to  the  giver, 

And  forth  from  her  teepee  apace  she  brought  him  the  robe  and  the  missal 

Of  the  father — poor  Rene  Menard;  and  related  the  tale  of  the  "Black  Robe." 

She  spoke  of  the  sacred  regard  he  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  Dakotas; 

That  she  buried  his  bones  with  her  kin,  in  the  mound  by  the  Cave  of  the  Council; 

That  she  treasured  and  wrapt  in  the  skin  of  the  red-deer  his  robe  and  his  prayer-book — 

"Till  his  brothers  should  come  from  the  East — from  the  land  of  the  far  Hochelaga, 

To  smoke  with  the  braves  at  the  feast,  on  the  shores  of  the  Loud-laughing  Waters. 76 

For  the  "Black  Robe"  spake  much  of  his  youth  and  his  friends  in  the  Land 

of  the  Sunrise; 

It  was  then  as  a  dream;  now  in  truth,  I  behold  them,  and  not  in  a  vision." 
But  more  spake  her  blushes,  I  ween,  and  her  eyes  full  of  language  unspoken, 
As  she  turned  with  the  grace  of  a  queen,  and  carried  her  gifts  to  the  teepee. 

Far  away  from  his  beautiful  France — from  his  home  in  the  city  of  Lyons, 
A  noble  youth  full  of  romance,  with  a  Norman  heart  big  with  adventure, 
In  the  new  world  a  wanderer,  by  chance,  DuLuth  sought  the  wild  Huron  forests. 


64  WINONA. 

But  afar  by  the  vale  of  the  Rhone,  the  winding  and  musical  river, 

And  the  vine-covered  hills  of  the  Saone,  the  heart  of  the  wanderer  lingered, — 

'Mid  the  vineyards  and  mulberry  trees,  and  the  fair  fields  of  corn  and  of  clover 

That  rippled  and  waved  in  the  breeze,  while  the  honey-bees  hummed  in  the  blossoms. 

For  there,  where  th'  impetuous  Rhone,  leaping  down  from  the  Switzerland  mountains, 

And  the  silver-lipped,  soft-flowing  Saone,  meeting,  kiss  and  commingle  together, 

Down-winding  by  vineyards  and  leas,  by  the  orchards  of  fig-trees  and  olives, 

To  the  island-gemmed,  sapphire-blue  seas  of  the  glorious  Greeks  and  the  Romans; 

Aye,  there,  on  the  vine-covered  shore,  'mid  the  mulberry-trees  and  the  olives, 

Dwelt  his  blue-eyed  and  beautiful  Flore,  with  her  hair  like  a  wheat-field  at  harvest, 

All  rippled  and  tossed  by  the  breeze,  and  her  cheeks  like  the  glow  of  the  morning, 

Far  away  o'er  the  emerald  seas,  ere  the  sun  lifts  his  brow  from  the  billows, 

Or  the  red-clover  fields  when  the  bees,  singing  sipped  the  sweet  cups  of  the  blossoms. 

Wherever  he  wandered — alone  in  the  heart  of  the  wild  Huron  forests, 

Or  cruising  the  rivers  unknown  to  the  land  of  the  Crees  or  Dakotas — 

His  heart  lingered  still  on  the  Rhone,  'mid  the  mulberry-trees  and  the  vineyards, 

Fast-fettered  and  bound  by  the  zone  that  girdled  the  robes  of  his  darling. 

Till  the  red  Harvest  Moon71  he  remained  in  the  vale  of  the  swift  Mississippi. 

The  esteem  of  the  warriors  he  gained,  and  the  love  of  the  dark-eyed  Winona. 

He  joined  in  the  sports  and  the  chase;  with  the  hunters  he  followed  the  bison, 

And  swift  were  his  feet  in  the  race  when  the  red  elk  they  ran  on  the  prairies. 

At  the  Game  of  the  Plum-stones77  he  played,  and  he  won  from  the  skillfulest  players; 

A  feast  to  Wa'tanka  he  made,  and  he  danced  at  the  feast  of  Hey  oka.16 

With  the  flash  and  the  roar  of  his  gun  he  astonished  the  fearless  Dakotas; 

They  called  it  the  "Maza  Wakan" — the  mighty,  mysterious  metal. 

"'Tisa  brother,"  they  said,  "of  the  fire  in  the  talons  of  dreadful  Wakinyan,32 

When  he  flaps  his  huge  wings  in  his  ire,  and  shoots  his  red  shafts  at  Unktehee."69 

The  Itancan, 74  tall  Wazi-kute,  appointed  a  day  for  the  races. 

From  the  red  stake  that  stood  by  his  tee,  on  the  southerly  side  of  the  Ha-ha, 

To  a  stake  at  the  Lake  of  the  Loons79 — a  league  and  return — was  the  distance. 

On  the  crest  of  the  hills  red  batoons  marked  the  course  for  the  feet  of  the  runners. 

They  gathered  from  near  and  afar,  to  the  races  and  dancing  and  feasting. 

Five  hundred  tall  warriors  were  there  from  Kapoza6    and  far-off  Keoza;8 


WINONA.  65 

Remnica,*  too,  furnished  a  share  of  the  legions  that  thronged  to  the  races, 

And  a  bountiful  feast  was  prepared  by  the  diligent  hands  of  the  women, 

And  gaily  the  multitudes  fared  in  the  generous  tees  of  Kathaga. 

The  chief  of  the  mystical  clan  appointed  a  feast  to  Unktehee — 

The  mystic  "  Waci'pee  Wakan"t — at  the  end  of  the  day  and  the  races. 

A  band  of  sworn  brothers  are  they,  and  the  secrets  of  each  one  are  sacred, 

And  death  to  the  lips  that  betray  is  the  doom  of  the  swarthy  avengers, 

And  the  son  of  tall  Wazi-kute  was  the  chief  of  the  mystical  order. 

On  an  arm  of  an  oak  hangs  the  prize  for  the  swiftest  and  strongest  of  runners — 
A  blanket  as  red  as  the  skies,  when  the  flames  sweep  the  plains  in  October. 
And  beside  it  a  strong,  polished  bow,  and  a  quiver  of  iron-tipped  arrows, 
Which  Kapoza's  tall  chief  will  bestow  on  the  fleet-footed  second  that  follows. 
A  score  of  swift-runners  are  there  from  the  several  bands  of  the  nation; 
And  now  for  the  race  they  prepare,  and  among  them  fleet-footed  Tamdoka. 
With  the  oil  of  the  buck  and  the  bear  their  sinewy  limbs  are  anointed, 
For  fleet  are  the  feet  of  the  deer  and  strong  are  the  limbs  of  the  bruin, 
And  long  is  the  course  and  severe  for  the  swiftest  and  strongest  of  runners. 

Hark!— the  shouts  and  the  braying  of  drums,  and  the  Babel  of  tongues  and  confusion ! 

From  his  teepee  the  tall  chieftain  comes,  and  DuLuth  brings  a  prize  for  the  runners — 

A  keen  hunting-knife  from  the  Seine,  horn-handled  and  mounted  with  silver. 

The  runners  are  ranged  on  the  plain,  and  the  Chief  waves  a  flag  as  a  signal, 

And  away  like  the  gray  wolves  they  fly — like  the  wolves  on  the  trail  of  the  red-deer; 

O'er  the  hills  and  the  prairie  they  vie,  and  strain  their  strong  limbs  to  the  utmost, 

While  high  on  the  hills  hangs  a  cloud  of  warriors  and  maidens  and  mothers, 

To  behold  the  swift-runners,  and  loud  are  the  cheers  and  the  shouts  of  the  warriors. 

Now  swift  from  the  lake  they  return,  o'er  the  emerald  hills  and  the  heather; 
Like  grey-hounds  they  pant  and  they  yearn,  and  the  leader  of  all  is  Tamdoka. 
At  his  heels  flies  Hu-pa-hu,+  the  fleet — the  pride  of  the  band  of  Kaoza, — 
A  warrior  with  eagled-winged  feet,  but  his  prize  is  the  bow  and  the  quiver. 
Tamdoka  first  reaches  the  post,  and  his  are  the  knife  and  the  blanket, 
By  the  mighty  acclaim  of  the  host  and  award  of  the  chief  and  the  judges. 

*Pronounced  Ray-mne-chah— The  village  of  the  Mountains,  situate  where  Red  Wing  now  stands. 
fSacred  Dance — The  Medicine-dance — See  description  infra. 
JThe  wings. 

5 


66  WINONA. 

Then  proud  was  the  tall  warrior's  stride,  and  haughty  his  look  and  demeanor; 
He  boasted  aloud  in  his  pride,  and  he  scoffed  at  the  rest  of  the  runners. 
"Behold  me,  for  I  am  a  man!*  my  feet  are  as  swift  as  the  West-wind. 
With  the  coons  and  the  beavers  I  ran;  but  where  is  the  elk  or  the  cabri?  so 
Come! — where  is  the  hunter  will  dare  match  his  feet  with  the  feet  of  Tamdoka? 
Let  him  think  of  Tate  t  and  beware,  ere  he  stake  his  last  robe  on  the  trial." 
"Oho!  Ho!  H6-heca!"J  they  jeered,  for  they  liked  not  the  boast  of  the  boaster; 
But  to  match  him  no  warrior  appeared,  for  his  feet  wore  the  wings  of  the  west-wind. 

Then  forth  from  the  side  of  the  chief  stepped  DuLuth  and  he  looked  on  the  boaster; 
"The  words  of  a  warrior  are  brief, — I  will  run  with  the  brave,"  said  the  Frenchman; 
"But  the  feet  of  Tamdoka  are  tired;  abide  till  the  cool  of  the  sunset." 
All  the  hunters  and  maidens  admired,  for  strong  were  the  limbs  of  the  stranger. 
"Hiwo!  Ho  !"§  they  shouted  and  loud  rose  the  cheers  of  the  multitude  mingled; 
And  there  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  stood  the  glad-eyed  and  blushing  Winona. 

Now  afar  o'er  the  plains  of  the  west  walked  the  sun  at  the  end  of  his  journey, 

And  forth  came  the  brave  and  the  guest,  at  the  tap  of  the  drum,  for  the  trial. 

Like  a  forest  of  larches  the  hordes  were  gathered  to  witness  the  contest; 

As  loud  as  the  drums  were  their  words  and  they  roared  like  the  roar  of  the  Ha-ha. 

For  some  for  Tamdoka  contend,  and  some  for  the  fair,  bearded  stranger, 

And  the  betting  runs  high  to  the  end,  with  the  skins  of  the  bison  and  beaver. 

A  wife  of  tall  Wazi-kute: — the  mother  of  boastful  Tamdoka — 

Brought  her  handsomest  robe  from  the  tee,  with  a  vaunting  and  loud  proclamation: 

She  would  stake  her  last  robe  on  her  son  who,  she  boasted,  was  fleet  as  the  Cabri, 8n 

And  the  tall,  tawny  chieftain  looked  on,  approving  the  boast  of  the  mother. 

Then  fleet  as  the  feet  of  a  fawn  to  her  lodge  ran  the  dark-eyed  Winona, 

She  brought  and  she  staked  on  the  lawn,  by  the  side  of  the  robe  of  the  boaster, 

The  lily-red  mantle  DuLuth,  with  his  own  hands,  had  laid  on  her  shoulders. 

"Tamdoka  is  swift,  but  forsooth,  the  tongue  of  his  mother  is  swifter," 

She  said,  and  her  face  was  aflame  with  the  red  of  the  rose  and  the  lily, 

And  loud  was  the  roar  of  acclaim;  but  dark  was  the  face  of  Tamdoka. 

*A  favorite  boast  of  the  Dakota  braves.  fThe  wind. 

lAbout  equivalent  to  Oho ! — Ah^ ! — fudge !  §Hurra  there ! 


WINONA.  G7 

They  strip  for  the  race  and  prepare, — DuLuth  in  his  breeches  and  leggins; 

And  the  brown,  curling  locks  of  his  hair  downward  droop  to  his  bare,  brawny  shoulders, 

And  his  face  wears  a  smile  debonair,  as  he  tightens  his  red  sash  around  him; 

But  stripped  to  the  moccasins  bare,  save  the  belt  and  the  breech-clout  of  buckskin, 

Stands  the  haughty  Tamdoka  aware  that  the  eyes  of  the  warriors  admire  him; 

For  his  arms  are  the  arms  of  a  bear  and  his  legs  are  the  legs  of  a  panther. 

The  drum  beats, — the  chief  waves  the  flag,  and  away  on  the  course  speed  the  runners, 

And  away  leads  the  brave  like  a  stag, — like  a  hound  on  his  track  flies  the  Frenchman; 

And  away  haste  the  hunters,  once  more,  to  the  hills  for  a  view  to  the  lake-side, 

And  the  dark-swarming  hill-tops,  they  roar  with  the  storm  of  loud  voices  commingled. 

Far  away  o'er  the  prairie  they  fly,  and  still  in  the  lead  is  Tamdoka, 

But  the  feet  of  his  rival  are  nigh,  and  slowly  he  gains  on  the  hunter. 

Now  they  turn  on  the  post  at  the  lake, — now  they  run  full  abreast  on  the  home-stretch; 

Side  by  side  they  contend  for  the  stake,  for  a  long  mile  or  .more  on  the  prairie. 

They  strain  like  a  stag  and  a  hound,  when  the  swift-river  gleams  through  the  thicket, 

And  the  horns  of  the  riders  resound,  winding  shrill  through  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

But  behold ! — at  full  length  on  the  ground  falls  the  fleet-footed  Frenchman  abruptly, 

And  away  with  a  whoop  and  a  bound,  springs  the  eager,  exulting  Tamdoka. 

Long  and  loud  on  the  hills  is  the  shout  of  his  swarthy  admirers  and  backers; 

"But  the  race  is  not  won  till  it  's  out,"  said  DuLuth,  to  himself  as  he  gathered, 

With  a  frown  on  his  face,  for  the  foot  of  the  wily  Tamdoka  had  tripped  him. 

Far  ahead  ran  the  brave  on  the  route,  and  turning  he  boasted  exultant. 

Like  spurs  to  the  steed  to  DuLuth  were  the  jeers  and  the  taunts  of  the  boaster; 

Indignant  was  he  and  red  wroth,  at  the  trick  of  the  runner  dishonest; 

And  away  like  a  whirlwind  he  speeds — like  a  hurricane  mad  from  the  mountains; 

He  gains  on  Tamdoka, — he  leads ! — and  behold,  with  the  spring  of  a  panther, 

He  leaps  to  the  goal  and  succeeds,  'mid  the  roar  of  the  mad  acclamation. 

Then  glad  as  the  robin  in  May  was  the  voice  of  Winona  exulting; 
And  the  crest-fallen  brave  turned  away,  and  lonely  he  walked  by  the  river; 
He  glowered  as  he  went  and  the  fire  of  revenge  in  his  bosom  was  kindled, 
But  he  strove  to  dissemble  his  ire,  and  he  whistled  alone  by  the  Ha-ha. 


68  WINONA. 


THE  "WAKAN-WACEPEE,"  OR  SACRED   DANCE.81 

Lo  the  lights  in  the  "Teepee  Wakan!"  'tis  the  night'of  the  Wakan- Wacepee. 
Round  and  round  walks  the  chief  of  the  clan,  as  he  rattles  the  sacred  Ta-sha-kay;81 
Long  and  loud  on  the  Chan-che-ga81  beat  the  drummers  with  magical  drumsticks, 
And  the  notes  of  the  Cho-tanka81  greet,  like  the  murmur  of  winds  on  the  waters. 
By  the  friction  of  white-cedar  wood  for  the  Feast  was  a  Virgin-fire20  kindled. 
They  that  enter  the  firm  brotherhood  first  must  fast  and  be  cleansed  by  E-nee-pee;81 
And  from  foot-sole  to  crown  of  the  head  must  they  paint  with  the  favorite  colors; 
For  Unktehee  likes  bands  of  blood-red,  with  the  stripings  of  blue  intermingled. 
In  the  hollow  earth,  dark  and  profound,  Unktehee  and  fiery  Wakin-yan 
Long  fought  and  the  terrible  sound  of  the  battle  was  louder  than  thunder; 
The  mountains  were  heaved  and  around  were  scattered  the  hills  and  the  boulders, 
And  the  vast  solid  plains  of  the  ground  rose  and  fell  like  the  waves  of  the  ocean. 
But  the  god  of  the  waters  prevailed.     Wakin-yan  escaped  from  the  cavern, 
And  long  on  the  mountains  he  wailed,  and  his  hatred  endureth  forever. 

When  Unktehee  had  finished  the  earth,  and  the  beasts  and  the  birds  and  the  fishes, 

And  men  at  his  bidding  came  forth  from  the  heart  of  the  huge  hollow- mountains69 

A  band  chose  the  god  from  the  hordes,  and  he  said:    "Ye  are  sons  of  Unktehee: 

Ye  are  lords  of  the  beasts  and  the  birds,  and  the  fishes  that  swim  in  the  waters. 

But  hearken  ye  now  to  my  words, — let  them  sound  in  your  bosoms  forever: 

Ye  shall  honor  Unktehee  and  hate  Wakinyan,  the  Spirit  of  Thunder, 

For  the  power  of  Untehee  is  great,  and  he  laughs  at  the  darts  of  Wakinyan. 

Ye  shall  honor  the  Earth  and  the  Sun,— for  they  are  your  father  and  mother;70 

Let  your  prayer  to  the  Sun  be:—  Wakdn,  Ate;  on-si-tnd-da  ohe^-net."* 

And  remember  the  Taku  Wakan, ™  all-pervading  in  earth  and  in  ether — 

Invisible  ever  to  man,  but  he  dwells  in  the  midst  of  all  matter; 

Yea,  he  dwells  in  the  heart  of  the  stone — in  the  hard  granite  heart  of  the  boulder; 

Ye  shall  call  him  forever  Tunkan — grandfather  of  all  the  Dakotas. 

Ye  are  men  that  I  choose  for  my  own;  ye  shall  be  as  a  strong  band  of  brothers, 

Now  I  give  you  the  magical  bone  and  the  magical  pouch  of  the  spirits.f 

And  these  are  the  laws  ye  shall  heed:     Ye  shall  honor  the  pouch  and  the  giver. 

""Sacred  Spirit!  Father!  have  pity  on  me  always." 
fRiggs'  Tahkoo  Wakan,  p.  go. 


W I  NONA.  69 

Ye  shall  walk  as  twin-brothers;  in  need,  one  shall  forfeit  his  life  for  another. 
Listen  not  to  the  voice  of  the  crow.*     Hold  as  sacred  the  wife  of  a  brother. 
Strike,  and  fear  not  the  shaft  of  the  foe,  for  the  soul  of  the  brave  is  immortal. 
Slay  the  warrior  in  battle,  but  spare  the  innocent  babe  and  the  mother. 
Remember  a  promise; — beware, — let  the  word  of  warrior  be  sacred. 
When  a  stranger  arrives  at  the  tee— be  he  a  friend  of  the  band  or  foeman, 
Give  him  food;  let  your  bounty  be  free;  lay  a  robe  for  the  guest  by  the  lodge-fire; 
Let  him  go  to  his  kindred  in  peace,  if  the  peace-pipe  he  smoke  in  the  teepee; 
And  so  shall  your  children  increase,  and  your  lodges  shall  laugh  with  abundance. 
And  long  shall  ye  live  in  the  land,  and  the  spirits  of  earth  and  the  waters 
Shall  come  to  your  aid,  at  command,  with  the  power  of  invisible  magic. 
And  at  last,  when  you  journey  afar — o'er  the  shining  "  Wandgee  Ta-cJuin-kit^  °* 
You  shall  walk  as  a  red,  shining  star,18  in  the  land  of  perpetual  summer." 

All  the  night  in  the  teepee  they  sang,  and  they  danced  to  the  mighty  Unktehee, 
While  the  loud-braying  Chan-che-ga  rang  and  the  shrill-piping  flute  and  the  rattle, 
Till  Anpetuwee7"  rose  in  the  east — from  the  couch  of  the  blushing  Han-nan-na, 
And  thus  at  the  dance  and  the  feast  sang  the  sons  of  Unktehee  in  chorus: 

•        "Wa-du-ta  o-hna  mi-ka-ge! 
Wa-du-ta  o-hna  mi-ka-ge ! 
Mini-yata  ite  wakande  maku, 
Ate  wakan — Tunkansidan, 

Tunkansidan  pejihuta  wakan 
Micage— he  Wicage ! 
Miniyata  ite  wakande  maku. 
Taukansidan  ite,  nape  du-win-ta  woo, 
Wahutopa  wan  yuha,  nape  du-win-ta  too." 

TRANSLATION. 

Ill  red  swan-down  he  made  it  for  me; 
In  red  swan-down  he  made  it  for  me; 
He  of  the  water — he  of  the  mysterious  face — 

Gave  it  to  me; 
Sact  ed  Father — Grandfather ! 

*Slander. 


70  WINONA. 

Grandfather  made  me  magical  medicine: 

That  is  true ! 
Iking  of  mystery, — grown  in  the  water — 

He  gave  it  to  me ! 

To  the  face  of  our  Grandfather  stretch  out  your  hand; 
Holding  a  quadruped,  stretch  out  your  hand ! 

Till  high  o'er  the  hills  of  the  east  Anpetuwee  walked  on  his  journey, 

In  secret  they  danced  at  the  feast,  and  communed  with  the  mighty  Unktehee. 

Then  opened  the  door  of  the  tee  to  the  eyes  of  the  day  and  the  people, 

And  the  sons  of  Unktehee,  to  be,  were  endowed  with  the  sacred  Oziiha,82 

By  the  son  of  tall  Wazi-kute,  Tamdoka,  the  chief  of  the  Magi. 

And  thus  since  the  birth-day  of  man — since  he  sprang  from  the  heart  of  the  mountains, 69 

Has  the  sacred  "Wacepee  Wakan"  by  the  warlike  Dakotas  been  honored, 

And  the  god-favored  sons  of  the  clan  work  their  will  with  the  help  of  the  spirits. 

'Twas  sunrise;  the  spirits  of  mist  trailed  their  white  robes  on  dewy  savannas, 
And  the  flowers  raised  their  heads  to  be  kissed  by  the  first  golden  beams  of  the  morning. 
The  breeze  was  abroad  with  the  breath  of  the  rose  of  the  Isles  of  the  Summer, 
And  the  humming-bird  hummed  on  the  heath  from  his  home  in  the  land  of  the  rain-bow.* 
'Twas  the  morn  of  departure.     DuLuth  stood  alone  by  the  roar  of  the  Ha-ha  ; 
Tall  and  fair  in  the  strength  of  his  youth  stood  the  blue-eyed  and  fair-bearded  Frenchman. 
A  rustle  of  robes  on  the  grass  broke  his  dream  as  he  mused  by  the  waters, 
And,  turning,  he  looked  on  the  face  of  Winona,  wild  rose  of  the  prairies, 
Half  hid  in  her  forest  of  hair,  like  the  round,  golden  moon  in  the  pine-tops. 
'Admiring  he  gazed — she  was  fair  as  his  own  blooming  Flore  in  her  orchards, 
With  her  golden  locks  loose  on  the  air,  like  the  gleam  of  the  sun  through  the  olives, 
Far  away  on  the  vine-covered  shore,  in  the  sun-favored  land  of  his  fathers. 
"Lists  the  chief  to  the  cataract's  roar  for  the  mournful  lament  of  the  Spirit ?"t 
Said  Winona, — "The  wail  of  the  sprite,  for  her  babe  and  its  father  unfaithful, 
Is  heard  in  the  midst  of  the  night,  when  the  moon  wanders  dim  in  the  heavens." 

"Wild-Rose  of  the  Prairies,"  he  said,  "DuLuth  listens  not  to  the  Ha-ha, 

For  the  wail  of  the  ghost  of  the  dead,  for  her  babe  and  its  father  unfaithful ; 

But  he  lists  to  a  voice  in  his  heart  that  is  heard  by  the  ear  of  no  other, 

And  to-day  will  the  White  Chief  depart — he  returns  to  the  land  of  the  sunrise." 

*The  Dakotas  say  the  humming-bird  comes  from  the  "  land  of  the  rain-bow." 
tSee  Legend  of  the  Falls,  or  Note  28— Appendix. 


WINONA.  71 

"Let  Winona  depart  with  the  chief, — she  will  kindle  the  fire  in  his  teepee  ; 

For  long  are  the  days  of  her  grief,  if  she  stay  in  the  tee  of  Ta-te-psin," 

She  replied,  and  her  cheeks  were  aflame  with  the  bloom  of  the  wild  prairie  lilies. 

"Tanke,*  is  the  White  Chief  to  blame?"  said  DuLuth  to  the  blushing  Winona. 

"The  White  Chief  is  blameless,"  she  said,  "but  the  heart  of  Winona  will  follow 

Wherever  thy  footsteps  may  lead,  O  blue-eyed  brave  Chief  of  the  white  men. 

For  her  mother  sleeps  long  in  the  mound,  and  a  step-mother  rules  in  the  teepee, 

And  her  father,  once  strong  and  renowned,  is  bent  with  the  weight  of  his  winters. 

No  longer  he  handles  the  spear, — no  longer  his  swift,  humming  arrows 

Overtake  the  fleet  feet  of  the  deer,  or  the  bear  of  the  woods,  or  the  bison  ; 

But  he  bends  as  he  walks,  and  the  wind  shakes  his  white  hair  and  hinders  his  footsteps  ; 

And  soon  will  he  leave  me  behind,  without  brother  or  sister  or  kindred. 

The  doe  scents  the  wolf  in  the  wind,  and  a  wolf  walks  the  path  of  Winona. 

Three  times  have  the  gifts  for  the  bride95  to  the  lodge  of  Ta-te-psin  been  carried, 

But  the  voice  of  Winona  replied  that  she  liked  not  the  haughty  Tamdoka. 

And  thrice  were  the  gifts  sent  away,  but  the  tongue  of  the  mother  protested, 

And  the  were-wolf52  still  follows  his  prey,  and  abides  but  the  death  of  my  father." 

"I  pity  Winona,"  he  said,  "but  my  path  is  a  pathway  of  danger, 

And  long  is  the  trail  for  the  maid  to  the  far-away  land  of  the  sunrise  ; 

And  few  are  the  braves  of  my  band,  and  the  braves  of  Tamdoka  are  many ; 

But  soon  I  return  to  the  land,  and  a  cloud  of  my  hunters  will  follow. 

When  the  cold  winds  of  winter  return,  and  toss  the  white  robes  of  the  prairies,       • 

The  fire  of  the  White  Chief  will  burn  in  his  lodge  at  the  Meeting-of- Waters  ;t 

And  when  from  the  Sunrise  again  comes  the  chief  of  the  sons  of  the  Morning, 

Many  moons  will  his  hunters  remain  in  the  land  of  the  friendly  Dakotas. 

The  son  of  Chief  Wazi-Kute  guides  the  White  Chief  afar  on  his  journey  ; 

Nor  long  on  the  Tonka  MedeJ — on  the  breast  of  the  blue,  bounding  billows — 

Shall  the  bark  of  the  Frenchman  delay,  but  his  pathway  shall  kindle  behind  him." 

She  was  pale,  and  her  hurried  voice  swelled  with  alarm  as  she  questioned  replying-- 
"Tamdoka  thy  guide  ?— I  beheld  thy  death  in  his  face,  at  the  races  ! 

*My  Sister. 

tMendota — -properly  Mdo-te — meaning  the  out-let  of  a  lake  or  river  into  another,  commonly  ap 
plied  to  the  region  about  Fort  Snelling. 

JTonka  Mede — Great  Lake,  i.  e.  Lake  Superior.  The  Dakotas  seem  to  have  had  no  other  name  for  it. 
They  generally  referred  to  it  as  Mim-ya-ta — Tkere  at  the  water. 


72  WIN  ON  A. 

He  covers  his  heart  with  a  smile,  but  revenge  never  sleeps  in  his  bosom  ; 
His  tongue — it  is  soft  to  beguile  ;  but  beware  of  the  pur  of  the  panther  ! 
For  death,  like  a  shadow,  will  walk  by  thy  side  in  the  midst  of  the  forest, 
Or  follow  thy  path  like  a  hawk  on  the  trail  of  a  wounded  Mastmca.* 
A  son" of  Unktehee  is  he, — the  Chief  of  the  crafty  magicians; 
They  have  plotted  thy  death  ;  I  foresee,  and  thy  trail,  it  is  red  in  the  forest  ; 
Beware  of  Tamdoka, — beware.     Slumber  not  like  the  grouse  of  the  woodlands, 
With  head  under  wing,  for  the  glare  of  the  eyes  that  sleep  not  are  upon  thee. " 

"Winona,  fear  not,"  said  Duluth,  "for  1  carry  the  fire  of  Wakinyan,t 

And  strong  is  the  arm  of  my  youth,  and  stout  are  the  hearts  of  my  warriors  ; 

But  Winona  has  spoken  the  truth,  and  the  heart  of  the  White  Chief  is  thankful. 

Hide  this  in  thy  bosom,  dear  maid, — 'tis  the  crucified  Christ  of  the  white  men.J 

Lift  thy  voice  to  his  spirit  in  need,  and  his  spirit  will  hear  thee  and  answer  ; 

For  often  he  comes  to  my  aid;  he  is  stronger  than  all  the  Dakotas; 

And  the  Spirits  of  evil,  afraid,  hide  away  when  he  looks  from  the  heavens." 

In  her  swelling,  brown  bosom -she  hid  the  crucified  Jesus  in  silver; 

"  Wi\vaste,"§  she  sadly  replied;  in  her  low  voice  the  rising  tears  trembled; 

Her  dewy  eyes  turned  she  aside,  and  she  slowly  returned  to  the  teepees. 

But  still  on  the  swift  river's  strand,  admiring  the  graceful  Winona, 

As  she  gathered,  with  brown,  dimpled  hand,  her  hair  from  the  wind,  stood  the  Frenchman. 

To  bid  the  brave  White  Chief  adieu,  on  the  shady  shore  gathered  the  warriors; 
His  glad  boatmen  manned  the  canoe,  and  the  oars  in  their  hands  were  impatient. 
Spake  the  Chief  of  Isantees, — "A  feast  will  await  the  return  of  my  brother 
In  peace  rose  the  sun  in  the  East,  in  peace  in  the  West  he  descended. 
May  the  feet  of  my  brother  be  swift,  till  they  bring  him  again  to  our  teepees; 
The  red  pipe  he  takes  as  a  gift,  may  he  smoke  that  red  pipe  many  winters. 
At  my  lodge-fire  his  pipe  shall  be  lit,  when  the  White  Chief  returns  to  Kathaga; 
On  the  robes  of  my  tee  shall  he  sit;  he  shall  smoke  with  the  chiefs  of  my  people 
The  brave  love  the  brave;  and  his  son  sends  the  Chief  as  a  guide  for  his  brother, 
By  the  way  of  the  Wakpa  Wakan||  to  the  Chief  at  the  Lake  of  the  Spirits. 


*The  rabbit.     The  Dakotas  called  the  Crees  "Mastincapi" — Rabbits. 

fl.  e.  a  fire-arm,  which    the  Dakotas  compare  to  the  roar  of  the  wings  of  the  Thunder-bird    and  the 
fiery  arrows  he  shoots. 

JDuJ,uth  was  a  devout  Catholic.  §Nee-wahshtay — Thou  art  good. 

|| Spirit-River,  now  called  Runt  River. 


WINONA.  73 

As  light  as  the  foot-steps  of  dawn  are  the  feet  of  the  stealthy  Tamdoka, 

And  he  fears  not  the  Maza  Wakan;*  he  is  sly  as  the  fox  of  the  forest. 

When  he  dances  the  dance  of  red  war  all  the  hungry  wolves  howl  by  the  Big  Sea,t 

For  they  scent  on  the  south-wind  afar  their  feast  on  the  bones  of  of  Ojibways." 

Thrice  the  Chief  puffed  the  red  pipe  of  peace,  ere  it  passed  to  the  lips  of  the  Frenchman. 

Spake  DuLuth, — -"May  the  Great  Spirit  bless  with  abundance  the  Chief  and  his  people; 

May  their  sons  and  their  daughters  increase,  and  the  fire  ever  burn  in  their  teepees. " 

Then  he  waved  with  a  flag  his  adieu  to  the  Chief  and  the  warriors  assembled; 

And  away  shot  Tamdoka's  canoe  to  the  strokes  of  ten  sinewy  hunters; 

And  a  white  path  he  clove  up  the  blue,  bubbling  stream  of  the  swift  Mississippi; 

And  away  on  his  foaming  trail  flew,  like  a  sea-gull,  the  bark  of  the  Frenchman. 

Then  merrily  rose  the  blithe  song  of  the  voyageurs  homeward  returning, 

And  thus,  as  they  glided  along,  sang  the  bugle-voiced  boatmen  in  chorus: 


Home  again!     home  again  !     bend  to  the  oar! 

Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  vovageur. 

He  rides  on  the  river  with  his  paddle  in  his  hand, 

And  his  boat  is  his  shelter  on  the  water  and  the  land. 

The  clam  has  his  shell  and  the  water-turtle  too, 

And  the  brave  boatman's  shell  is  his  birch-bark  canoe. 

So  pull  away,  boatmen;  bend  to  the  oar; 

Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyageur. 

Home  again !     home  again  !     bend  to  the  oar ! 

Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyageur. 

His  couch  is  as  downy  as  a  couch  can  be, 

For  he  sleeps  on  the  feathers  of  the  green  fir-tree. 

He  dines  on  the  fat  of  the  pemmican-sack, 

And  his  eau  de  vie  is  the  cau  de  lac. 

So  pull  away,  boatmen;  bend  to  the  oar; 

Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyageur. 

Home  again  !     home  again !     bend  to  the  oar ! 
Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyageur. 


'Fire-arm — spirit-metal. 

fLake  Superior — at  that  time  the  home  of  the  Ojibways  (Chippewas.) 

5  * 


74  WINONA. 

The  brave,  jolly  boatman, — he  never  is  afraid 
When  he  meets  at  the  portage  a  red,  forest  maid, 
A  Huron,  or  a  Cree,  or  a  blooming  Chippeway; 
And  he  marks  his  trail  with  the  bois  brides. 
So  pull  away,  boatmen;  bend  to  the  oar; 
Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyagenr. 
Home  again !     home  again !     bend  to  the  oar ! 
Merry  is  the  life  of  the  gay  voyageur. 

In  the  reeds  of  the  meadow  the  stag  lifts  his  branchy  head  stately  and  listens, 
And  the  bobolink,  perched  on  the  flag,  her  ear  sidelong  bends  to  the  chorus. 
From  the  brow  of  the  Beautiful  Isle,*  half  hid  in  the  midst  of  the  maples, 
The  sad-faced  Winona,  the  while,  watched  the  boat  growing  less  in  the  distance, 
Till  away  in  the  bend  of  stream,  where  it  turned  and  was  lost  in  the  lindens, 
She  saw  the  last  dip  and  the  gleam  of  the  oars  ere  they  vanished  forever. 
Still  afar  on  the  waters  the  song,  like  bridal  bells  distantly  chiming, 
The  stout,  jolly  boatmen  prolong,  beating  time  with  the  stroke  of  their  paddles; 
And  Winona's  ear,  turned  to  the  breeze,  lists  the  air  falling  fainter  and  fainter, 
Till  it  dies  like  the  murmur  of  bees  when  the  sun  is  aslant  on  the  meadows. 
Blow,  breezes, — blow  softly  and  sing  in  the  dark,  flowing  hair  of  the  maiden; 
But  never  again  shall  you  bring  the  voice  that  she  loves  to  Winona. 

Now  a  light,  rustling  wind  from  the  South  shakes  his  wings  o'er  the  wide,wimpling  waters: 

Up  the  dark-winding  river  DuLuth  follows  fast  in  the  wake  of  Tamdoka. 

On  the  slopes  of  the  emerald  shores  leafy  woodlands  and  prairies  alternate; 

On  the  vine-tangled  islands  the  flowers  peep  timidly  out  at  the  white  men; 

In  the  dark-winding  eddy  the  loon  sits  warily  watching  and  voiceless, 

And  the  wild-goose,  in  reedy  lagoon,  stills  the  prattle  and  play  of  her  children. 

The  does  and  their  sleek,  dappled  fawns  prick  their  ears  and  peer  out  from  the  thickets, 

And  the  bison-calves  play  on  the  lawns,  and  gambol  like  colts  in  the  clover. 

Up  the  still-flowing  Wakpa  Wahan's  winding  path  through  the  groves  and  the  meadows, 

Now  DuLuth' s  brawny  boatmen  pursue  the  swift-gliding  bark  of  Tamdoka  ; 

And  hardly  the  red  braves  out-do  the  stout,  steady  oars  of  the  white  men. 

Now  they  bend  to  their  oars  in  the  race — the  ten  tawny  braves  of  Tamdoka  ; 
And  hard  on  their  heels  in  the  chase  ply  the  six  stalwart  oars  of  the  Frenchmen. 

KWista  Waste— Nicollet  Island, 


WINONA.  75 

In  the  stern  of  his  boat  sits  DuLuth ;  in  the  stern  of  his  boat  stands  Tamdoka ; 

And  warily,  cheerily,  both  urge  the  oars  of  their  men  to  the  utmost. 

Far-stretching  away  to  the  eyes,  winding  blue  in  the  midst  of  the  meadows, 

As  a  necklet  of  sapphires  that  lies  unclaspt  in  the  lap  of  a  virgin, 

Here  asleep  in  the  lap  of  the  plain  lies  the  reed-bordered,  beautiful  river. 

Like  two  flying  coursers  that  strain,  on  the  track,  neck  and  neck,  on  the  home-stretch, 

With  nostrils  distended,  and  mane  froth-flecked,  and  the  neck  and  the  shoulders, 

Each  urged  to  his  best  by  the  cry  and  the  whip  and  the  rein  of  his  rider, 

Now  they  skim  o'er  the  waters  and  fly,  side  by  side,  neck  and  neck,  through  the  meadows. 

The  blue  heron  flaps  from  the  reeds,  and  away  wings  her  course  up  the  river ; 

Straight  and  swift  is  her  flight  o'er  the  meads,  but  she  hardly  outstrips  the  canoemen. 

See  !  the  voyagetirs  bend  to  their  oars  till  the  blue  veins  swell  out  on  their  foreheads ; 

And  the  sweat  from  their  brawny  breasts  pours ;  but  in  vain  their  Herculean  labor ; 

For  the  oars  of  Tamdoka  are  ten,  and  but  six  are  the  oars  of  the  Frenchmen, 

And  the  red  warriors'  burden  of  men  is  matched  by  the  voyageur^s  luggage. 

Side  by  side,  neck  and  neck,  for  a  mile,  still  they  strain  their  strong  arms  to  th.e  utmost, 

Till  rounding  a  willowy  isle,  now  ahead  creeps  the  boat  of  Tamdoka, 

And  the  neighboring  forests  profound,  and  the  far-stretching  plain  of  the  meadows 

To  the  whoop  of  the  victors  resound,  while  the  panting  French  rest  on  their  paddles. 

With  sable  wings  wide  o'er  the  land,  night  sprinkles  the  dew  of  the  heavens  ; 
And  hard  by  the  dark  river's  strand,  in  the  midst  of  a  tall,  somber  forest, 
Two  camp-fires  are  lighted,  and  beam  on  the  trunks  and  the  arms  of  the  pine  trees. 
In  the  fitful  light  darkle  and  gleam  the  swarthy-hued  faces  around  them. 
And  one  is  the  camp  of  DuLuth,  and  the  other  the  camp  of  Tamdoka, 
Hut  few  are  the  jests  and  uncouth  of  the  voyagenrs  over  their  supper, 
While  moody  and  silent  the  braves  round  their  fire  in  a  circle  sit  crouching ; 
And  low  is  the  whisper  of  leaves  and  the  sough  of  the  wind  in  the  branches  ; 
And  low  is  the  long-winding  howl  of  the  lone  wolf  afar  in  the  forest ; 
But  shrill  is  the  hoot  of  the  owl,  like  a  bugle-blast  blown  in  the  pine-tops, 
And  the  half-startled  voyageurs  scowl  at  the  sudden  and  saucy  intruder. 
Like  the  eyes  of  the  wolves  are  the  eyes  of  the  watchful  and  silent  Dakotas; 
Like  the  face  of  the  moon  in  the  skies,  when  the  clouds  chase  each  other  across  it, 
Is  Tamdoka's  dark  face  in  the  light  of  the  flickering  flames  of  the  camp-fire. 
They  have  plotted  red  murder  by  night,  and  securely  contemplate  their  victims. 
But  wary  and  armed  to  the  teeth  are  the  resolute  Frenchmen  and  ready, 


76  WINONA. 

If  need  be,  to  grapple  with  death,  and  to  die  hand  to  hand  in  the  desert. 

Yet  skilled  in  the  arts  and  the  wiles  of  the  cunning  and  crafty  Algonkins, 

They  cover  their  hearts  with  their  smiles,  and  hide  their  suspicions  of  evil. 

Round  their  low,  smouldering  fire,  feigning  sleep,  lie  the  watchful  and  wily  Dakotas; 

But  DuLuth  and  his  voyageurs  heap  their  fire  that  shall  blaze  till  the  morning, 

Ere  they  lay  themselves  snugly  to  rest,  with  their  guns  by  their  side  on  the  blankets, 

As  if  there  were  none  to  molest  but  the  ravening  beasts  of  the  forest. 

'Tis  midnight.     The  rising  moon  gleams,  weird  and  still  o'er  the  dusky  horizon; 
Through  the  hushed,  somber  forest  she  beams,  and  fitfully  gloams  on  the  meadows; 
And  a  dim,  glimmering  pathway  she  paves,  at  times,  on  the  dark  stretch  of  river. 
The  winds  are  asleep  in  the  caves — in  the  heart  of  the  far-away  mountains; 
And  here  on  the  meadows  and  there,  the  lazy  mists  gather  and  hover; 
And  the  lights  of  the  Fen-Spirits72  flare  and  dance  on  the  low-lying  marshes, 
As  still  as  the  footsteps  of  death  by  the  bed  of  the  babe  and  its  mother; 
And  hushed  are  t*he  pines,  and  beneath  lie  the  weary-limbed  boatmen  in  slumber. 
Walk  softly, — walk  softly,  O  Moon,  through  the  gray,  broken  clouds  in  thy  pathway, 
For  the  earth  lies  asleep,  and  the  boon  of  repose  is  bestowed  on  the  weary. 
Toiling  hands  have  forgotten  their  care;   e'en  the  brooks  have  forgotten  to  murmur; 
But  hai'k ! — there's  a  sound  on  the  air! — 'tis  the  light-rustling  robes  of  the  Spirits, 
Like  the  breath  of  the  night  in  the  leaves,  or  the  murmur  of  reeds  on  the  river, 
In  the  cool  of  the  mid-summer  eves,  when  the  blaze  of  the  day  has  descended. 
Low-crouching  and  shadowy  forms,  as  still  as  the  gray  morning's  footsteps, 
Creep  sly  as  the  serpent  that  charms,  on  her  nest  in  the  meadow,  the  plover; 
In  the  shadows  of  pine-trunks  they  creep,  but  their  panther-eyes  gleam  in  the  fire-light, 
As  they  peer  on  the  white-men  asleep,  in  the  glow  of  the  fire,  on  their  blankets. 
Lo,  in  each  swarthy  right-hand  a  knife;  in  the  left-hand,  the  bow  and  the  arrows! 
Brave  Frenchmen  !  awake  to  the  strife ! — or  you  sleep  in  the  forest  forever. 
Nay,  nearer  and  nearer  they  glide,  like  ghosts  on  the  fields  of  their  battles, 
Till  close  on  the  sleepers,  they  bide  but  the  signal  of  death  from  Tamdoka. 
Still  the  sleepers  sleep  on.     Not  a  breath  stirs  the  leaves  of  the  awe-stricken  forest; 
The  hushed  air  is  heavy  with  death;  like  the  footsteps  of  death  are  the  moments. 
"Arise!" — At  the  word,  with  a  bound,  to  their  feet  spring  the  vigilant  Frenchmen; 
And  the  dark,  dismal  forests  resound  to  the  crack  and  the  roar  of  their  rifles; 
And  seven  writhing  forms  on  the  ground  clutch  the  earth.     From    the   pine-tops   the 
screech-owl 


WINONA.  77 

Screams  and  flaps  his  wide  wings  in  affright,  and  plunges  away  through  the  shadows; 
And  swift  on  the  wings  of  the  night  flee  the  dim,  phantom- forms  of  the  spirits. 
Like  cabris80  when  white  wolves  pursue,  fled  the  four  yet-remaining  Dakotas; 
Through  forest  and  fen-land  they  flew,  and  wild  terror  howled  on  their  footsteps. 
And  one  was  Tamdoka.     DuLuth  through  the  night  sent  his  voice  like  a  trumpet: 
"Ye  are  Sons  of  Unktehee,  forsooth!     Return  to  your  mothers,  ye  cowards!" 
His  shrill  voice  they  heard  as  they  fled,  but  only  the  echoes  made  answer. 
At  the  feet  of  the  brave  Frenchmen,  dead,  lay  seven  swarthy  Sons  of  Unktehee; 
And  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  slain,  they  found,  as  it  gleamed  in  the  fire-light, 
The  horn-handled  knife  from  the  Seine,  where  it  fell  from  the  hand  of  Tamdoka. 


TIIK    fl'l'KK 


I  KIT    KIVEK. 


In  the  gray  of  the  morn,  ere  the  sun  peeped  over  the  dewy  horizon, 
Their  journey  again  was  begun,  and  they  toiled  up  the  swift,  winding  river; 
And  many  a  shallow  they  passed  on  their  way  to  the  Lake  of  the  Spirits; 
But  dauntless  they  reached  it  at  last,  and  found  Akee-pa-kee-tin's*  village, 
On  an  isle  in  the  midst  of  the  lake;  and  a  day  in  his  teepee  they  tarried. 

Of  the  deed  in  the  wilderness  spake,  to  the  brave  Chief,  the  frank-hearted  Frenchman. 
A  generous  man  was  the  Chief,  and  a  friend  of  the  fearless  explorer; 

*See  Hennepin's  account  of  "Aqui-pa-quc-tin,"  and  his  village.     Shea's  Hennepin,  225. 


78 


WINONA. 


And  dark  was  his  visage  with  grief  at  the  treacherous  act  of  the  warriors. 

"Brave  Wazi-Kute  is  a  man,  and  his  heart  is  as  clear  as  the  sun-light; 

But  the  head  of  a  treacherous  clan,  and  a  snake-in-the-bush,  is  Tamdoka," 

Said  the  chief;  and  he  promised  DuLuth,  on  the  word  of  a  friend  and  a  warrior, 

To  carry  the  pipe  and  the  truth  to  his  cousin,  the  chief  at  Kathaga; 

For  thrice  at  the  Tanka  Mede  had  he  smoked  in  the  lodge  of  the  Frenchman; 

And  thrice  had  he  carried  away  the  bountiful  gifts  of  the  trader. 

When  the  chief  could  no  longer  prevail  on  the  white  men  to  rest  in  his  teepee, 

He  guided  their  feet  on  the  trail  to  the  lakes  of  the  winding  Rice-River.* 

Now  on  speeds  the  light  bark  canoe,  through  the  lakes  to  the  broad  Gitchee  Seebeejt 

And  up  the  great  river  they  row, — up  the  Big  Sandy  Lake  and  Savanna; 

And  down  through  the  meadows  they  go  to  the  river  of  broad  Gitchee  Gumee. % 


DALLES   OF   THE   ST.    LOUIS. 

Still  onward  they  speed  to  the  Dalles — to  the  roar  of  the  white-rolling  rapids, 
Where  the  dark  river  tumbles  and  falls  down  the  ragged  ravine  of  the  mountains, 

*Now  called  "Mud  River" — it  empties  into  the  Mississippi  at  Aitkin. 

\Gitchee  See-bee — Big  River — is  the  Ojibway  name  for  the  Mississippi,  which  is  a  corruption  of 
Gitchee  Seebee— as  Michigan  is  a  corruption  of  Gitchee  Gumee — Great  Lake,  the  Ojibway  name  of 
Lake  Superior.  JThe  Ojibways  call  the  St.  Louis  River  Gitchee  -Gumee  See-bee— Great-lake  River, 
i.  e.  the  river  of  the  Great  Lake  (Lake  Superior). 


WINONA.  79 

And  singing  his  wild  jubilee  to  the  low-moaning  pines  and  the  cedars, 
Rushes  on  to  the  unsalted  sea  o'er  the  ledges  upheaved  by  volcanoes. 
Their  luggage  the  vovageurs  bore  down  the  long,  winding  path  of  the  portage,* 
While  they  mingled  their  song  with  the  roar  of  the  turbid  and  turbulent  waters. 
Down-wimpling  and  murmuring  there,  twixt  two  dewy  hills  winds  a  streamlet, 
Like  a  long,  flaxen  ringlet  of  hair  on  the  breast  of  a  maid  in  her  slumber. 

All  safe  at  the  foot  of  the  trail,  where  they  left  it,  they  found  their  felucca, 
And  soon  to  the  wind  spread  the  sail,  and  glided  at  ease  through  the  waters, — 
Through  the  meadows  and  lakelets  and  forth,  round  the  point  stretching  south 

like  a  finger, 

From  the  mist-wreathen  hill  on  the  north,  sloping  down  to  the  bay  and  the  lake-side. 
And  behold,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  a  cluster  of  Chippewa  wigwams, 
And  the  busy  wives  plying  with  skill  their  nets  in  the  emerald  waters. 
Two  hundred  white  winters  and  more  have  fled  from  the  face  of  the  Summer 
Since  DuLuth,  on  that  wild,  somber  shore,  in  the  unbroken  forest  primeval, 
From  the  midst  of  the  spruce  and  the  pines,  saw  the  smoke  of  the  wigwams  up-curling, 
Like  the  fumes  from  the  temples  and  shrines  of  the  Druids  of  old  in  their  forests. 
Ah,  little  he  dreamed  then,  forsooth,  that  a  city  would  stand  on  that  hill-side, 
And  bear  the  proud  name  of  DuLuth,  the  untiring  and  dauntless  explorer, — 
A  refuge  for  ships  from  the  storms,  and  for  men  from  the  bee-hives  of  Europe, 
Out-stretching  her  long,  iron  arms  o'er  an  empire  of  Saxons  and  Normans. 

The  swift  west-wind  sang  in  the  sails,  and  on  flew  the  boat  like  a  sea-gull, 
By  the  green,  templed  hills  and  the  dales,  and  the  dark  rugged  rocks  of  the  North  Shore; 
For  the  course  of  the  brave  Frenchman  lay  to  his  fort  at  the  Gah-mah-na-te'k-wahk,8;! 
By  the  shore  of  the  grand  Thunder  Bay,  where  the  gray  rocks  loom  up  into  mountains; 
Where  the  Stone  Giant  sleeps  on  the  Cape,  and  the  god  of  the  storms 

makes  the  thunder,83 

And  the  Makinak8:!  lifts  his  huge  shape  from  '-.he  breast  of  the  blue-rolling  waters. 
And  thence  to  the  south-westward  led  his  course  to  the  Holy  Ghost  Mission,84 
Where  the  Black  Robes,  the  brave  shepherds,  fed  their  wild  sheep 

on  the  isle  Wau-ga-ba-me,84 


*The  route  of  DuLuth  above  described— from  the  mouth  of  the  Wild-Rice  (Mud)  River,  to  Lake  Su 
perior — was  for  centuries  and  still  is,  the  Indians'  canoe-route.  [  have  walked  over  the  old  portage  from 
the  foot  of  the  Dalles  to  the  St.  Louis  above — trod  by  the  feet  of  half-breeds  and  vnyageurs  for  more 
than  two  centuries,  and  by  the  Indians  for,  perhaps,  a.  thousand,  years. 


80 


WINONA. 


SL'NSET    BAY,    I.AKK    SUPERIOR. 

In  the  enchanting  Cha-quam-e-gon  Bay,  defended  by  all  the  Apostles;* 
And  thence,  by  the  Ke-we-naw,  lay  his  course  to  the  Mission  Sainte  Marie,  t 
Now  the  waves  clap  their  myriad  hands,  and  streams  the  white  hair  of  the  surges; 
DuLuth  at  the  steady  helm  stands,  and  he  hums  as  he  bounds  o'er  the  billows: 

O  sweet  is  the  carol  of  bird, 

And  sweet  is  the  murmur  of  streams; 

But  sweeter  the  voice  that  I  heard — 

In  the  night — in  the  midst  of  my  dreams. 


*The  Apostle  Islands. 


e  Saut  St.  Marie. 


WINONA.  81 

'Tis  the  moon  of  the  sere,  falling  leaves.      From  the  heads  of  the  maples  the  west-wind 

Plucks  the  red-and-gold  plumage  and  grieves  on  the  meads  for  the  rose  and  the  lily; 

Their  brown  leaves  the  moaning  oaks  strew,  and  the  breezes  that  roam  on  the  prairies, 

Low-whistling  and  wanton  pursue  the  down  of  the  silk-weed  and  thistle. 

All  sere  are  the  prairies  and  brown,  in  the  glimmer  and  haze  of  the  Autumn; 

From  the  far  northern  marshes  flock  down,  by  thousands,  the  geese  and  the  mallards. 

From  the  meadows  and  wide-prairied  plains,  for  their  long  southward  journey  preparing, 

In  croaking  flocks  gather  the  cranes,  and  choose  with  loud  clamor  their  leaders. 

The  breath  of  the  evening  is  cold,  and  lurid  along  the  horizon 

The  flames  of  the  prairies  are  rolled,  on  the  somber  skies  flashing  their  torches. 

At  noontide  a  shimmer  of  gold,  through  the  haze,  pours  the  sun  from  his  pathway. 

The  wild-rice  is  gathered  and  ripe,  on  the  moors,  lie  the  scarlet  po-pan-ka;* 

Michabo85  is  smoking  his  pipe, — 'tis  the  soft,  dreamy  Indian  Summer, 

When  the  god  of  the  South3  as  he  flies  from  Wazfya,  the  god  of  the  Winter, 

For  a  time  turns  his  beautiful  eyes,  and  backward  looks  over  his  shoulder. 

It  is  noon.     From  his  path  in  the  skies  the  red  sun  looks  down  on  Kathaga, 

Asleep  in  the  valley  it  lies,  for  the  swift  hunters  follow  the  bison. 

Ta-te-psin,  the  aged  brave,  bends  as  he  walks  by  the  side  of  Winona; 

Her  arm  to  his  left  hand  she  lends,  and  he  feels  with  his  staff  for  the  pathway; 

On  his  slow,  feeble  footsteps  attends  his  gray  dog,  the  watchful  Wichaka;t 

For  blind  in  his  years  is  the  chief  of  a  fever  that  followed  the  Summer, 

And  the  days  of  Ta-te-psin  are  brief.     Once  more  by  the  dark-rolling  river 

Sits  the  Chief  in  the  warm,  dreary  haze  of  the  beautiful  Summer  in  Autumn; 

And  the  faithful  dog  lovingly  lays  his  head  at  the  feet  of  his  master. 

On  a  dead,  withered  branch  sits  a  crow,  down-peering  askance  at  the  old  man; 

On  the  marge  of  the  river  below  romp  the  nut-brown  and  merry- voiced  children, 

And  the  dark  waters  silently  flow,  broad  and  deep,  to  the  plunge  of  the  Ha-Ha_ 

By  his  side  sat  Winona.     He  laid  his  thin,  shriveled  hand  on  her  tresses. 

"Winona,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  "no  longer  thy  father  beholds  thee  ; 

But  he  feels  the  long  locks  of  thy  hair,  and  the  days  that  are  gone  are  remembered, 

When  SisokaJ  sat  faithful  and  fair  in  the  lodge  of  swift-footed  Ta-te-psin. 

The  white  years  have  broken  my  spear;  from  my  bow  they  have  taken  the  bow-string; 

^Cranberries.  fWee-chah-kah— literally  "Faithful." 

}The  Robin — the  name  of  Winona' s  Mother. 

6 


82  WINONA. 

But  once  on  the  trail  of  the  deer,  like  a  gray  wolf  from  sunrise  till  sunset, 

By  woodland  and  meadow  ana   mere,  ran  the  feet  of  Ta-te-psin  untiring. 

But  dim  are  the  days  that  are  gone,  and  darkly  around  me  they  wander, 

Like  the  pale,  misty  face  of  the  moon  when  she  walks  through  the  stor,m  of  the  winter; 

And  sadly  they  speak  in  my  ear.     I  have  looked  on  the  graves  of  my  kindred. 

The  Land  of  the  Spirits  is  near.     Death  walks  by  my  side  like  a  shadow. 

Now  open  thine  ear  to  my  voice,  and  thy  heart  to  the  wish  of  thy  father, 

And  long  will  Winona  rejoice  that  she  heeded  the  words  of  Ta-te-psin. 

The  cold,  cruel  winter  is  near,  and  famine  will  sit  in  the  teepee. 

What  hunter  will  bring  me  the  deer,  or  the  flesh  of  the  bear  or  the  bison? 

For  my  kinsmen  before  me  have  gone;  they  hunt  in  the  land  of  the  shadows. 

In  my  old  age  forsaken,  alone,  must  I  die  in  my  teepee  of  hunger? 

Winona,  Tamdoka  can  make  my  empty  lodge  laugh  with  abundance; 

For  thine  aged  and  blind  father's  sake,  to  the  son  of  the  Chief  speak  the  promise. 

For  gladly  again  to  my  tee  will  the  bridal  gifts  come  for  my  daughter. 

A  fleet-footed  hunter  is  he,  and  the  good  spirits  feather  his  arrows; 

And  the  cold,  cruel  winter  will  be  a  feast-time  instead  of  a  famine." 

"My  father,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  filial  and  full  of  compassion, 

"Would  the  heart  of  Ta-te-psin  rejoice  at  the  death  of  Winona,  his  daughter? 

The  crafty  Tamdoka  I  hate.     Must  I  die  in  his  teepee  of  sorrow? 

For  I  love  the  White  Chief,  and  I  wait  his  return  to  the  land  of  Dakotas. 

When  the  cold  winds  of  winter  return,  and  toss  the  white  robes  of  the  prairies, 

The  fire  of  the  White  Chief  will  burn,  in  his  lodge,  at  the  Meeting-of- Waters. 

Winona's  heart  followed  his  feet  far  away  to  the  land  of  the  morning, 

And  she  hears  in  her  slumber  his  sweet,  kindly  voice  call  the  name  of  thy  daughter. 

My  father,  abide,  I  entreat,  the  return  of  the  brave  to  Kathaga. 

The  wild-rice  is  gathered,  the  meat  of  the  bison  is  stored  in  the  teepee; 

Till  the  Coon-Moon71   enough  and  to  spare;  and  if  then  the  white  warrior  return  not, 

Winona  will  follow  the  bear,  and  the  coon,  to  their  dens  in  the  forest. 

She  is  strong;  she  can  handle  the  spear;  she  can  bend  the  stout  bow  of  the  hunter; 

And  swift  on  the  trail  of  the  deer  will  she  run  o'er  the  snow  on  her  siiow-shoes. 

Let  the  step-mother  sit  in  the  tee,  and  kindle  the  fire  for  my  father; 

And  the  cold,  cruel  winter  shall  be  a  feast-time  instead  of  a  famine." 

"The  White  Chief  will  never  return,"  half  angrily  muttered  Ta-te-psin; 

His  camp-fire  will  nevermore  burn  in  the  land  of  the  warriors  he  slaughtered. 


WINONA.  83 

I  grieve,  for  my  daughter  has  said  that  she  loves  the  false  friend  of  her  kindred; 

For  the  hands  of  the  White  Chief  are  red  with  the  blood  of  the  trustful  Dakotas. " 

Then  warmly  Winona  replied,  "Tamdoka  himself  is  the  traitor, 

And  the  white-hearted  stranger  had  died  by  his  treacherous  hand  in  the  forest, 

But  thy  daughter's  voice  bade  Ifim  beware  of  the  sly  death  that  followed  his  footsteps. 

The  words  of  Tamdoka  are  fair,  but  his  heart  is  the  den  of  the  serpents. 

When  the  braves  told  their  tale,  like  a  bird  sang  the  heart  of  Winona  rejoicing, 

But  gladlier  still  had  she  heard  of  the  death  of  the  crafty  Tamdoka. 

The  Chief  will  return;  he  is  bold,  and  he  carries  the  fire  of  W'akinyan: 

To  our  people  the  truth  will  be  told,  and  Tamdoka  will  hide  like  a  coward. " 

His  thin  locks  the  aged  brave  shook;  to  himself  half-inaudibly  muttered; 

To  Winona  no  answer  he  spoke — only  moaned  he  "Micunksee!     Micunksee!* 

In  my  old  age  forsaken  and  blind !     Yuri!     He-he!     Micunksee!     Micunksee !"t 

And  Wichaka,  the  pitying  dog,  whined,  as  he  looked  on  the  face  of  his  master. 

Waziya  came  down  from  the  North — from  his  land  of  perpetual  winter. 

From  his  frost-covered  beard  issued  forth  the  sharp-biting,  shrill-whistling  North-wind; 

At  the  touch  of  his  breath  the  wide  earth  turned  to  stone,  and  the  lakes  and  the  rivers; 

From  his  nostrils  the  white  vapors  rose,  and  they  covered  the  sky  like  a  blanket. 

Like  the  down  of  MagaJ  fell  the  snows,  tossed  and  \vhirled  into  heaps  by  the  North-wind. 

Then  the  blinding  storms  roared  on  the  plains,  like  the  simoons  on  sandy  Sahara; 

From  the  fangs  of  the  fierce  hurricanes  fled  the  elk  and  the  deer  and  the  bison. 

Ever  colder  and  colder  it  grew,  till  the  frozen  earth  cracked  and  split  open; 

And  harder  and  harder  it  blew,  till  the  prairies  were  bare  as  the  boulders. 

To  the  southward  the  buffaloes  fled,  and  the  white  rabbits  hid  in  their  burrows; 

On  the  bare  sacred  mounds  of  the  dead  howled  the  gaunt,  hungry  wolves  in  the  night-time. 

The  strong  hunters  crouched  in  their  tees;  by  the  lodge-fires  the  little  ones  shivered; 

And  the  Magic-Men§  danced  to  appease,  in  their  teepee,  the  wrath  of  Waziya; 

But  famine  and  fatal  disease,  like  phantoms,  crept  into  the  village. 

The  Hard  Moon||  was  past,  but  the  moon  when  the  coons  make  their  trails  in  the  forestH 

Grew  colder  and  colder.     The  coon,  or  the  bear,  ventured  not  from  his  cover; 

For  the  cold,  cruel  Arctic  Simoon  swept  the  earth  like  the  breath  of  a  furnace. 

In  the  tee  of  Ta-te-psin  the  store  of  wild-rice  and  dried  meat  was  exhausted; 

And  Famine  crept  in  at  the  door,  and  sat  crouching  and  gaunt  by  the  lodge-fire. 

*My  Daughter:  My  Daughter!  fAlas,  O  My  Daughter, — My  Daughter! 

JWild-goose.  §Medicine-men.  [(January.  ^February. 


84  WINONA. 

But  now  with  the  saddle  of  deer,  and  the  gifts,  came  the  crafty  Tamdoka; 

And  he  said,  "Lo  I  bring  you  good  cheer,  for  I  love  the  blind  Chief  and  his  daughter. 

Take  the  gifts  of  Tamdoka,  for  dear  to  his  heart  is  the  dark-eyed  Winona." 

The  aged  Chief  opened  his  ears;  in  his  heart  he  already  consented; 

But  the  moans  of  his  child  and  her  tears  touched  the  age-softened  heart  of  the  father, 

And  he  said,  "I  am  burdened  with  years, — I  am  bent  by  the  snows  of  my  winters; 

Ta-te-psin  will  die  in  his  tee;  let  him  pass  to  the  Land  of  the  Spirits; 

But  Winona  is  young;  she  is  free,  and  her  own  heart  shall  choose  her  a  husband." 

The  dark  warrior  strode  from  the  tee;  low-muttering  and  grim  he  departed. 

"Let  him  die  in  his  lodge,"  muttered  he,  "but  Winona  shall  kindle  my  lodge-fire." 

Then  forth  went  Winona.     The  bow  of  Ta-te-psin  she  took  and  his  arrows, 

And  afar  o'er  the  deep,  drifted  snow,  through  the  forest,  she  sped  on  her  snow-shoes. 

Over  meadow  and  ice-covered  mere,  through  the  thickets  of  red-oak  and  hazel, 

She  followed  the  tracks  of  the  deer,  but  like  phantoms  they  fled  from  her  vision. 

From  sunrise  till  sunset  she  sped;  half-famished  she  camped  in  the  thicket; 

In  the  cold  snow  she  made  her  lone  bed  ;  on  the  buds  of  the  birch"!:"  made  her  supper. 

To  the  dim  moon  the  gray  owl  preferred,  from  the  tree-top,  his  shrill  lamentation, 

And  around  her  at  midnight  she  heard  the  dread  famine-cries  of  the  gray  wolves. 

In  the  gloam  of  the  morning  again  on  the  trail  of  the  red-deer  she  followed — 

All  day  long  through  the  thickets  in  vain,  for  the  gray  wolves  were  chasing  the  roebucks; 

And  the  cold,  hungry  winds  from  the  plain  chased  the  wolves  and  the  deer  and  Winona. 

In  the  twilight  of  sundown  she  sat,  in  the  forest,  all  weak  and  despairing; 

Ta-te-psin's  bow  lay  at  her  feet,  and  his  otter-skin  quiver  of  arrows. 

"He  promised, — he  promised,"  she  said, — half-dreamily  uttered  and  mournful, — 

"And  why  comes  he  not?  Is  he  dead?   Was  he  slain  by  the  crafty  Tamdoka? 

Must  Winona,  alas,  make  her  choice — make  her  choice  between  death  and  Tamdoka? 

She  will  die,  but  her  soul  will  rejoice  in  the  far  Summer-land  of  the  spirits. 

Hark!  I  hear  his  low,  musical  voice!  He  is  coming!  My  White  Chief  is  coming! 

Ah,  no;  I  am  half  in  a  dream! — 'twas  the  mem'ry  of  days  long  departed; 

But  the  birds  of  the  green  Summer  seem  to  be  singing  above  in  the  branches. " 

Then  forth  from  her  bosom  she  drew  the  crucified  Jesus  in  silver. 

In  her  dark  hair  the  cold  north-wind  blew,  as  meekly  she  bent  o'er  the  image. 

"O  Christ  of  the  White  man,"  she  prayed,  "lead  the  feet  of  my  brave  to  Kathaga; 

*  The  pheasant  feeds  on  birch-buds  in  winter.     Indians  eat  them  when  very  hungry. 


WINONA.  85 

Send  a  good  spirit  down  to  my  aid,  or  the  friend  of  the  White  Chief  will  perish." 
Then  a  smile  on  her  wan  features  played,  and  she  lifted  her  pale  face  and  chanted: 

"E-ye-he-kta!  E-ye-he-kta! 

He-kta-ce;  e-ye-ce-quon. 

Mi-Wamdee-ska,  he-he-kta; 

He-kta-ce;  e-ye-ce-quon, 

Mi-Wamdee-ska." 

[TRANSLATION.] 
He  will  come;  he  will  come; 
He  will  come,  for  he  promised. 
My  White  Eagle,  he  will  come; 
He  will  come,  for  he  promised, — 
My  White  Eagle. 

Thus  sadly  she  chanted,  and  lo — allured  by  her  sorrowful  accents — 
From  the  dark  covert  crept  a  red  doe  and  wondrously  gazed  on  Winona. 
Then  swift  caught  the  huntress  her  bow;  from  her  trembling  hand  hummed 

the  keen  arrow. 

Up-leaped  the  red  gazer  and  fled,  but  the  white  snow  was  sprinkled  with  scarlet, 
And  she  fell  in  the  oak  thicket  dead.     On  the  trail  ran  the  eager  Winona. 
Half-famished  the  raw  flesh  she  ate.     To  the  hungry  maid  sweet  was  her  supper. 
Then  swift  through  the  night  ran  her  feet,  and  she  trailed  the  sleek  red-deer  behind  her. 
And  the  guide  of  her  steps  was  a  star — the  cold-glinting  star  of  Waziya — * 
Over  meadow  and  hilltop  afar,  on  the  way  to  the  lodge  of  her  father. 
But  hark !  on  the  keen  frosty  air  wind  the  shrill  hunger-howls  of  the  gray  wolves ! 
And  nearer, — still  nearer! — the  blood  of  the  doe  have  they  scented  and  follow; 
Through  the  thicket,  the  meadow,  the  wood,  dash  the  pack  on  the  trail  of  Winona. 
Swift  she  speeds  with  her  burden,  but  swift  on  her  track  fly  the  minions  of  famine; 
Now  they  yell  on  the  view  from  the  drift,  in  the  reeds  at  the  marge  of  the  meadow; 
Red  gleam  their  wild,  ravenous  eyes;  for  they  see  on  the  hill-side  their  supper; 
The  dark  forest  echoes  their  cries;  but  her  heart  is  the  heart  ot  a  warrior. 
From  its  sheath  snatched  Winona  her  knife,  and  a  leg  from  the  red  doe  she  severed; 
With  the  carcass  she  ran  for  her  life, — to  a  low-branching  oak  ran  the  maiden; 
Round  the  deer's  neck  her  head-strapt  was  tied;  swiftly  she  sprang  to  the  arms  of  the 

oak-tree; 
*Waziya's  Star  is  the  North-star.  |A  strap  used  in  carrying  burdens. 


86  WINONA. 

Quick  her  burden  she  drew  to  her  side,  and  higher  she  clomb  on  the  branches, 

While  the  maddened  wolves  battled  and  bled,  dealing  death  o'er  the  leg  to  each  other; 

Their  keen  fangs  devouring  the  dead, — yea,  devouring  the  flesh  of  the  living, 

They  raved  and  they  gnashed  and  they  growled,  like  the  fiends  in  the  regions  infernal; 

The  wide  night  re-echoing  howled,  and  the  hoarse  North- wind  laughed  o'er  the  slaughter. 

But  their  ravenous  maws  unappeased  by  the  blood  and  the  flesh  of  their  fellows, 

To  the  cold  wind  their  muzzles  they  raised,  and  the  trail  to  the  oak-tree  they  followed. 

Round  and  round  it  they  howled  for  the  prey,  madly  leaping  and  snarling  and  snapping; 

But  the  brave  maiden's  keen  arrows  slay,  till  the  dead  number  more  than  the  living. 

All  the  long,  dreary  night-time,  at  bay,  in  the  oak  sat  the  shivering  Winona; 

But  the  sun  gleamed  at  last,  and  away  skulked  the  gray  cowards*  down  through  the  forest. 

Then  down  dropped  the  doe  and  the  maid.     Ere  the  sun  reached  the  midst  of  his  journey, 

Her  red,  welcome  burden  she  laid  at  the  feet  of  her  famishing  father. 

Waziya's  wild  wrath  was  appeased,  and  homeward  he  turned  to  his  teepee,3 

O'er  the  plains  and  the  forest-land  breezed,  from  the  Islands  of  Summer,  the  South-wind. 

From  their  dens  came  the  coon  and  the  bear;  o'er  the  snow  through  the  woodlands  they 

wandered; 

On  her  snow-shoes  with  stout  bow  and  spear  on  their  trails  ran  the  huntress  Winona. 
The  coon  to  his  den  in  the  tree,  and  the  bear  to  his  burrow  she  followed; 
A  brave,  skillful  hunter  was  she,  and  Ma-te-psin's  lodge  laughed  with' abundance. 

The  long  winter  wanes.     On  the  wings   of  the  spring  come  the  geese  and  the  mallards; 

On  the  bare  oak  the  red-robin  sings,  and  the  crocuses  peep  on  the  prairies, 

And  the  bobolink  pipes,  but  he  brings,  of  the  blue-eyed,  brave  White  Chief,  no  tidings. 

With  the  waning  of  winter,  alas,  waned  the  life  of  the  aged  Tatepsin; 

Ere  the  blue  pansies  peeped  from  the  grass,  to  the  Land  of  the  Spirits  he  journeyed; 

Like  a  babe  in  its  slumber  he  passed,  or  the  snow  irom  the  hill-tops  in  April; 

And  the  dark-eyed  Winona,  at  last,  stood  alone  by  the  graves  of  her  kindred. 

When  their  myriad  mouths  opened  the  trees  to  the  sweet  dew  of  heaven  and  the  rain  drops, 

And  the  April  showers  fell  on  the  leas,  on  his  mound  fell  the  tears  of  Winona. 

Round  her  drooping  form  gathered  the  years  and  the  spirits  unseen  of  her  kindred, 

As  low,  in  the  midst  of  her  tears,  at  the  grave  of  her  father  she  chanted: 

*Wolves  sometimes  attack  people  at  night,  but  rarely,  if  ever,    in  the  day  time.     If  they  have  followed 
a  hunter  all  night,  or  "treed"  him,  they  will  skulk  away  as  soon  as  the  sun  rises. 


WINONA.  87 

E-yo-tan-han  e-yay-wah-ke-yay ! 

E-yo-tan-han  e-yay-wah-ke-yay! 

E-yo-tan-han  e-yay-wah-ke-yay! 
Ma-kah  kin  hay-chay-dan  tay-han  wan-kay. 
Tu-way  ne  ktay  snee  e-yay-chen  e-wah  chay. 

E-yo-tan-han  e-yay-wah-ke-yay ! 

E-yo-tan-han  e-yay-wah-ke-yay! 
Ma-kah  kin  hay-chay-dan  tay-han  wan-kay. 

[TRANSLATION]. 

Sore  is  my  sorrow ! 

Sore  is  my  sorrow  ! 

Sore  is  my  sorrow ! 
The  earth  alone  lasts. 
I  speak  as  one  dying; 

Sore  is  my  sorrow ! 

Sore  is  my  sorrow ! 
The  earth  alone  lasts. 

Still  hope,  like  a  star  in  the  night  gleaming  oft  through  the  broken  clouds  somber, 
Cheered  the  heart  of  Winona,  and  bright,  on  her  dreams,  beamed  the  face 

of  the  Frenchman. 
As  the  thought  of  a  loved  one  and  lost,  sad  and  sweet  were  her  thoughts 

of  the  White  Chief; 

In  the  moon's  mellow  light,  like  a  ghost,  walked  Winona  alone  by  the  Ha-ha, 
Ever  wrapped  in  a  dream.     Far  away — to  the  land  of  the  sunrise — she  wandered; 
On  the  blue-rolling  Tanka  Mede,*  in  the  midst  of  her  dreams,  she  beheld  him — 
In  his  white-winged  canoe,  like  a  bird,  to  the  land  of  Dakotas  returning; 
And  often  in  fancy  she  heard  the  dip  of  his  oars  on  the  river. 

On  the  dark  waters  glimmered  the  moon,  but  she  saw  not  the  boat  of  the  Frenchman; 
On  the  somber  night  bugled  the  loon,  but  she  heard  not  the  song  of  the  boatmen. 
The  moon  waxed  and  waned,  but  the  star  of  her  hope  never  waned  to  the  setting; 
Through  her  tears  she  beheld  it  afar,  like  a  torch  on  the  eastern  horizon. 
"He  will  come, — he  is  coming,"  she  said;  "he  will  come,  for  my  White  Eagle  promised, )r 
And  low  to  the  bare  earth  the  maid  bent  her  ear  for  the  sound  of  his  footsteps. 
"He  is  gone,  but  his  voice  in  my  ear  still  remains  like  the  voice  of  the  robin; 
He  is  far,  but  his  footsteps  I  hear;  he  is  coming;  my  White  Chief  is  coming!" 

*  Lake  Superior, — The  Gitchee  Gumee  of  the  Chippewas. 


88  WINONA. 

But  the  moon  waxed  and  waned.     Nevermore  will  the  eyes  of  Winona  behold  him 

Far  away  on  the  dark,  rugged  shore  of  the  blue  Gitchee  Giimee  he  lingers. 

No  tidings  the  rising  sun  brings;  no  tidings  the  star  of  the  evening; 

But  morning  and  evening  she  sings,  like  a  turtle-dove  widowed  and  waiting: 

Ake  u,  ake  u,  ake  u;  Come  again,  come  again,  come  again; 

Ma  cante  maseca.  For  my  heart  is  sad. 

Ake  u,  ake  u,  ake  u;  Come  again,  come  again,  come  again; 

Ma  cante  maseca.  For  my  heart  is  sad. 

Down  the  broad  Gitchee  Seebee*  the  band  took  their  way  to  the  Games  at  Keoza,8 
While  the  swift-footed  hunters  by  land  ran  the  shores  for  the  elk  and  the  bison. 
Like  magasf  ride  the  birchen  canoes  on  the  breast  of  the  dark  Gitchee  Seebee; 
By  the  willow-fringed  islands  they  cruise,  by  the  grassy  hills  green  to  their  summits; 
By  the  lofty  bluffs  hooded  with  oaks  that  darken  the  deep  with  their  shadows; 
And  bright  in  the  sun  gleam  the  strokes  of  the  oars  in  the  hands  of  the  women. 
With  the  band  went  Winona.     The  oar  plied  the  maid  with  the  skill  of  a  hunter. 
They  loitered  and  camped  on  th'e  shore  of  Rcmnica — the  Lake  of  the  Mountains. J 
There  the  fleet  hunters  followed  the  deer,  and  the  thorny  pahin%  for  the  women. 
From  the  tees  rose  the  smoke  of  good  cheer,  curling  blue  through  the  tops  of  the  maples, 
Near  the  foot  of  a  cliff  that  arose,  like  the  battle-scarred  walls  of  a  castle, 
Up-towering,  in  rugged  repose,  to  a  dizzy  height  over  the  waters. 

But  the  man-wolf  still  followed  his  prey,  and  the  step-mother  ruled  in  the  teepee; 

Her  will  must  Winona  obey,  by  the  custom  and  law  of  Dakotas. 

The  gifts  to  the  teepee  were  brought — the  blankets  and  beads  of  the  White  men, 

And  Winona,  the  orphaned,  was  bought  by  the  crafty,  relentless  Tamdoka.- 

In  the  Spring-time  of  life,  in  the  flush  of  the  gladsome  mid-May  days  of  Summer, 

When  the  bobolink  sang  and  the  thrush,  and  the  red  robin  chirped  in  the  branches, 

To  the  tent  of  the  brave  must  she  go;  she  must  kindle  the  fire  in  his  teepee; 

She  must  sit  in  the  lodge  of  her  foe,  as  a  slave  at  the  feet  of  her  master. 

Alas  for  her  waiting!  the  wings  of  the  East-wind  have  brought  her  no  tidings; 

On  the  meadow  the  meadow-lark  sings,  but  sad  is  her  song  to  Winona, 

For  the  glad  warbler's  melody  brings  but  the  memory  of  voices  departed. 

*  Chippewa  name  of  the  Mississippi, 
t  Wild  Geese. 

\  Lake  Pepin;  by  Hennepin  called  Lake  of  Tears — Called  by  the  Dakotas  Remnee-chah-Mday — Lake 
of  the  Mountains. 

§   Pah-hin — the  porcupine — the  quills  of  which  are  greatly  prized  for  ornamental  work. 


WINONA.  89 

The  Day-Spirit  walked  in  the  west  to  his  lodge  in  the  land  of  the  shadows; 

His  shining  face  gleamed  on  the  crest  of  the  oak-hooded  hills  and  the  mountains, 

And  the  meadow-lark  hied  to  her  nest,  and  the  mottled  owl  peeped  from  her  cover. 

But  hark!  from  the  teepees  a  cry!  Hear  the  shouts  of  the  hurrying  warriors! 

Are  the  steps  of  the  enemy  nigh, — of  the  crafty  and  creeping- Ojibways? 

Nay;  look  on  the  dizzy  cliff  high! — on  the  brink  of  the  cliff  stands  Winona! 

Her  sad  face  up-turned  to  the  sky.      Hark!  I  hear  the  wild  chant  of  her  death-song: 

My  Father's  Spirit,  look  down,  look  down — 
From  your  hunting-grounds  in  the  shining  skies; 
Behold,  for  the  light  of  my  soul  is  gone, — 
The  light  is  gone  and  Winona  dies. 
I  looked  to  the  East,  but  I  saw  no  star; 
The  face  of  my  White  Chief  was  turned  away. 
I  harked  for  his  footsteps  in  vain;  afar 
His  bark  sailed  over  the  Sunrise-sea. 
Long  have  I  watched  till  my  heart  is  cold; 
In  my  breast  it  is  heavy  and  cold  as  stone. 
No  more  shall  Winona  his  face  behold, 
And  the  robin  that  sang  in  her  heart  is  gone. 
Shall  I  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  treacherous  brave? 
On  his  hateful  couch  shall  Winona  lie? 
Shall  she  kindle  his  fire  like  a  coward  slave? 
No ! — a  warrior's  daughter  can  bravely  die. 
My  Father's  Spirit,  look  down,  look  down — 
From  your  hunting-grounds  in  the  shining  skies; 
Behold,  for  the  light  of  my  soul  is  gone, — 
The  light  is  gone  and  Winona  dies. 

Swift  the  strong  hunters  clomb  as  she  sang,  and  the  foremost  of  all  was  Tamdoka; 

From  crag  to  crag  upward  he  sprang;  like  a  panther  he  leaped  to  the  summit. 

Too  late!  on  the  brave  as  he  crept  turned  the  maid  in  her  scorn  and  defiance; 

Then  swift  from  the  dizzy  height  leaped.     Like  a  brant  arrow-pierced  in  mid-heaven, 

Down-whirling  and  fluttering  she  fell,  and  headlong  plunged  into  the  waters. 

Forever  she  sank  mid  the  wail,  and  the  wild  lamentation  of  women. 

Her  lone  spirit  evermore  dwells  in  the  depths  of  the  Lake  of  the  Mountains, 

And  the  lofty  cliff  evermore  tells  to  the  years  as  they  pass  her  sad  story.* 

*  The  Dakotas  say  that  the  spirit  of  Winona  forever  haunts  the  lake.  They  say  that  it  was  many, 
many  winters  ago  when  Winona  leaped  from  the  rock — that  the  rock  was  then  perpendicular  to  the 
water's  edge  and  she  leaped  into  the  lake,  but  now  the  rock  has  worn  away,  or  the  water  has  receded,  so 
that  it  does  not  reach  the  foot  of  the  rock. 


90 


WINONA. 


In  the  silence  of  sorrow  the  night  o'er  the  earth  spread  her  wide,  sable  pinions; 

And  the  stars18  hid  their  faces;  and  light  on  the  lake  fell  the  tears  of  the  spirits. 

As  her  sad  sisters  watched  on  the  shore  for  her  spirit  to  rise  from  the  waters, 

They  heard  the  swift  dip  of  an  oar,  and  a  boat  they  beheld  like  a  shadow, 

Gliding  down  through  the  night  in  the  gray,  gloaming  mists  on  the  face  of  the  waters. 

'Twas  the  bark  of  DuLuth  on  his  way  from  the  Falls  to  the  Games  at  Keoza. 


DOWN    THE    RAGGED    RAVINE    OF    THE    MOUNTAINS.          DALLES    OF    THE    ST.     LOUIS. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  FALLS, 


[Read  at  the  celebration  of  the  Old  Settlers  of  Hennepin  County,  at  the  Academy  of 
Music,  Minneapolis,  July  4,  1879.] 


(The  numerals  refer  to  notes  in  the  Appendix 


., 


On  the  Spirit-Islandt  sitting  under  midnight's  misty  moon, 
Lo  I  see  the  spirits  flitting  o'er  the  waters  one  by  one ! 
Slumber  wraps  the  silent  city,  and  the  droning  mills  are  dumb ; 
One  lone  whippowil's  shrill  ditty  calls  her  mate  that  ne'er  will  come. 
Sadly  moans  the  mighty  river,  foaming  down  the  fettered  falls, 
Where  of  old  he  thundered  ever  o'er  abrupt  and  lofty  walls. 
Great  Unktehee69 — god  of  waters — lifts  no  more  his  mighty  head; — 
Fled  he  with  the  timid  otters? — lies  he  in  the  cavern  dead? 

Hark  ! — the  waters  hush  their  sighing,  and  the  whippowil  her  call, 
Through  the  moon-lit  mists  are  flying  dusky  shadows  silent  all. 
Lo  from  out  the  waters  foaming — from  the  cavern  deep  and  dread — 
Through  the  glamour  and  the  gloaming,  comes  a  spirit  of  the  dead. 
Sad  she  seems;  her  tresses  raven  on  her  tawny  shoulders  rest; 
Sorrow  on  her  brow  is  graven,  in  her  arms  a  babe  is  pressed. 
Hark ! — she  chants  the  solemn  story, — sings  the  legend  sad  and  old, 
And  the  river  wrapt  in  glory  listens  while  the  tale  is  told. 


*An-pe-tu  Sa-pa — Clouded  Day — was  the  name  of  the  Dakota  mother  who  committed  suicide,  as  rela 
ted  in  this  legend,  by  plunging  over  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony.  Schoolcraft  calls  her  "Amjtata  Sapa. " 
Ampata  is  not  Dakota.  There  are  several  versions  of  this  legend,  all  agreeing  in  the  main  points. 

fThe  small  island  of  rock  a  few  rods  below  the  Falls,  was  called  by  the  Dakotas  Wanagee  We-ta — 
Spirit-Island.  They  say  the  spirit  of  Anpetu  Sapa  sits  upon  that  island  at  night  and  pours  forth  her  sor 
row  in  song.  They  also  say  that  from  time  out  of  mind,  war-eagles  nested  on  that  island,  until  the  ad 
vent  of  white  men  frightened  them  away.  This  seems  to  be  true.  Carver's  Travels  (London  1778),  p.  7  i 


92  THE   LEGEND  OF   THE   FALLS. 

Would  you  hear  the  legend  olden,  hearken  while  I  tell  the  tale — 
Shorn,  alas,  of  many  a  golden,  weird  Dakota  chant  and  wail. 

THE  LEGEND. 

Tall  was  young  Wanata,  stronger  than  Heyoka's16  giant  form, — 
Laughed  at  flood  and  fire  and  hunger,  faced  the  fiercest  winter  storm. 
When  Wakinyan88  flashed  and  thundered,  when  Unktehee  raved  and  roared, 
All  but  brive  Wanata  wondered,  and  the  gods  with  fear  implored. 
When  the  war-whoop  wild  resounded,  calling  friends  to  meet  the  foe, 
From  the  teepee  swift  he  bounded,  armed  with  polished  lance  and  bow. 
In  the  battle's  din  and  clangor  fast  his  fatal  arrows  flew, 
Flashed  his  fiery  eyes  with  anger, — many  a  haughty  foe  he  slew. 
Hunter,  swift  was  he  and  cunning,  caught  the  beaver,  slew  the  bear, 
Overtook  the  roebuck  rupning,  dragged  the  panther  from  his  lair. 
Loved  was  he  by  many  a  maiden;  many  a  dark  eye  glanced  in  vain; 
Many  a  heart  with  sighs  was  laden  for  the  love  it  might  not  gain. 
So  they  called  the  brave  "Ska  Capa";*  but  the  fairest  of  the  band— 
Moon-faced,  meek  Anpetu-Sapa — won  the  hunter's  heart  and  hand. 

From  the  wars  with  triumph  burning,  from  the  chase  of  bison  fleet, 
To  his  lodge  the  brave  returning,  spread  his  trophies  at  her  feet. 
Love  and  joy  sat  in  the  teepee;  him  a  black-eyed  boy  she  bore; 
But  alas,  she  lived  to  weep  a  love  she  lost  forevermore. 
For  the  warriors  chose  Wanata  first  Itancant  of  the  band. 
At  the  council-fire  he  sat  a  leader  loved  a  chieftain  grand. 
Proud  was  fair  Anpetu-Sapa,  and  her  eyes  were  glad  with  joy; 
Proud  was  she  and  very  happy,  with  her  chieftain  and  her  boy. 
But  alas,  the  fatal  honor  that  her  brave  Wanata  won, 
Brought  a  bitter  woe  upon  her, — hid  with  clouds  the  summer  sun. 

*Or  Capa  Ska — White  beaver.     White  beavers  are  very  rare,  very  cunning  and  hard  to  catch. 
tE-tan-can— Chief. 


THE   LEGEND  OF   THE   FALLS.  93 

For  among  the  brave  Dakotas,  wives  bring  honor  to  the  chief. 

On  the  vine-clad  Minnesota's  banks  he  met  the  Scarlet  Leaf. 

Young  and  fair  was  Ape-diita* — full  of  craft  and  very  fair; 

Proud  she  walked  a  queen  of  beauty  with  her  wondrous  flowing  hair. 

In  her  net  of  hair  she  caught  him — caught  Wanata  with  her  wiles ; 

All  in  vain  his  wife  besought  him — begged  in  vain  his  wonted  smiles. 

Ape-diita  ruled  the  teepee — all  Wanata's  smiles  were  hers; 

When  the  lodge  was  wrapped  in  sleep  a  start  beheld  the  mother's  tears. 

Long  she  strove  to  do  her  duty  for  the  black-eyed  babe  she  bore ; 

But  the  proud,  imperious  beauty  made  her  sad  forevermore. 

Still  she  dressed  the  skins  of  beaver,  bore  the  burdens,  spread  the  fare; 

Patient  ever,  murmuring  never,  while  her  cheeks  were  creased  with  care. 

In  the  moon  Maga-o-Kada,71  twice  an  hundred  years  ago — 
Ere  the  "Black  Robe's "J  sacred  shadow  stalked  the  prairies'  pathless  snow- 
Down  the  swollen,  rushing  river,  in  the  sunset's  golden  hues, 
From  the  hunt  of  bear  and  beaver  came  the  band  in  swift  canoes. 
On  the  queen  of  fairy  islands,  on  the  Wita-Waste's  §  shore, 
Camped  Wanata,  on  the  highlands,  just  above  the  cataract's  roar. 
Many  braves  were  with  Wanata;  Ape-diita,  too,  was  there, 
And  the  sad  Anpetu-sapa  spread  the  lodge  with  wonted  care. 
Then  above  the  leafless  prairie  leaped  the  fat-faced,  laughing  moon, 
And  the  stars — the  spirits  fairy — walked  the  welkin  one  by  one. 
Swift  and  silent  in  the  gloaming  on  the  waste  of  waters  blue, 
Speeding  downward  to  the  foaming,  shot  Wanata's  birch  canoe, 
In  it  stood  Anpetu-sapa — in  her  arms  her  sleeping  child; 
Like  a  wailing  Norse-land  drapa*\  rose  her  death-song  weird  and  wild : 

*Stars,  the  Dakotas  say,  are  the  faces  of  departed  friends  watching  over  their  friends  and  relatives  on 
earth. 

tThe  Dakotas  called  the  Jesuit  priests  "Black  Robes"  from  the  color  of  their  vestments. 

JWee-tah  Wah-stay — Beautiful  Island, — the  Dakota  name  for  Nicollet  Island,  just  above  the  Falls. 

§A-pe— leaf,— duta— Scarlet,— Scarlet  leaf. 

^Drapa,  a  Norse  funeral  wail  in  which  the  virtues  of  the  deceased  are  recounted. 


94  THE  LEGEND  OF   THE  FALLS. 

Mihihna,*  Mihihna,  my  heart  is  stone; 
The  light  is  gone  from  my  longing  eyes; 
The  wounded  loon  in  the  lake  alone 
Her  death-song  sings  to  the  moon  and  dies. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  the  path  is  long, 
The  burden  is  heavy  and  hard  to  bear; 
I  sink, — I  die,  and  my  dying  song 
Is  a  song  of  joy  to  the  false  one's  ear. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  my  young  heart  flew 
Far  away  with  my  brave  to  the  bison-chase; 
To  the  battle  it  went  with  my  warrior  true, 
And  never  returned  till  I  saw  his  face. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  my  brave  was  glad 

When  he  came  from  the  chase  of  the  roebuck  fleet ; 

Sweet  were  the  words  that  my  hunter  said, 

As  his  trophies  he  laid  at  Anpetu's  feet. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  the  boy  I  bore — 
When  the  robin  sang  and  my  brave  was  true, 
I  can  bear  to  look  on  his  face  no  more, 
For  he  looks,  Mihihna,  so  much  like  you. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  the  Scarlet  Leaf 
Has  robbed  my  boy  of  his  father's  love; 
He  sleeps  in  my  arms — he  will  find  no  grief 
In  the  star-lit  lodge  in  the  land  above. 

Mihihna,  Mihihna,  my  heart  is  stone, 
The  light  is  gone  from  my  longing  eyes; 
The  wounded  loon  in  the  lake  alone, 
Her  death-song  sings  to  the  moon  and  dies. 

Swiftly  down  the  turbid  torrent,  as  she  sung  her  song  she  flew; 
Like  a  swan  upon  the  current,  dancing  rode  the  light  canoe. 
Hunters  hurry  in  the  gloaming,  all  in  vain  Wanata  calls; 
Singing  through  the  surges  foaming,  lo  she  plunges  o'er  the  Falls. 

*Mee-heen-yah — My  husband 


THE   LEGEND  OF   THE   FALLS.  95 

Long  they  search  the  sullen  river — searched  for  leagues  along  the  shore, 
Bark  or  babe  or  mother  never  saw  the  sad  Dakotas  more; 
But  at  night  or  misty  morning  oft  the  hunters  heard  her  song, 
Oft  the  maidens  heard  her  warning  in  their  mellow  mother-tongue. 

On  the  bluffs  they  sat  enchanted  till  the  blush  of  beamy  dawn ; 

Spirit-Isle,  they  say,  is  haunted,  and  they  call  the  spot  "Wakan.  "* 

Many  summers  on  the  highland,  in  the  full-moon's  golden  glow — 

In  the  woods  on  Fairy  Island,t  walked  a  snow  white  fawn  and  doe — 

Spirits  of  the  babe  and  mother  sadly  seeking  evermore, 

For  a  father's  love  another  turned  with  evil  charm  and  power. 

Sometimes  still  when  moonbeams  slrmmer  through  the  maples  on  the  lawn, 
In  the  gloaming  and  the  glimmer  walk  the  silent  doe  and  fawn; 
And  on  Spirit-Isle  or  near  it,  under  midnight's  misty  moon, 
Oft  is  seen  the  mother's  spirit,  oft  is  heard  her  mournful  tune. 

*Pronounced  Walk-on, — Sacred,  inhabited  by  a  Spirit. 
fFairy  Island,— Wita  Waste— Nicollet  Island. 


THE  SE/\-GULL: 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  PICTURED  ROCKS. OF  LAKE  SUPERIOR.   OJIBWAY 

IN  THE  MEASURE  OF  HIAWATHA. 


(The  numerals,  i  2,  etc.,  refer  to  Notes  to  Sea-Gull  in  Appendix.) 

On  the  shore  of  Gitchee  Gumee  ~  - 
Deep,  mysterious,  mighty  waters — 
Where  the  manitoes— the  spirits — 
Ride  the  storms  and  speak  in  thunder, 
In  the  days  of  Neme-Shomis, 3 
In  the  days  that  are  forgotten, 
Dwelt  a  tall  and  tawny  hunter — 
Gitchee  Pez-ze-u — the    panther, 
Son  of  Waub-Ojeeg, 4    the  warrior, 
Famous   Waub-Ojeeg,  the  warrior. 
Strong  was  he  and  fleet  as  roebuck, 
Brave  was  he  and  very  stealthy ; 
On  the  deer  crept  like  a  panther; 
Grappled  with  Makwa, 3    the  monster, 
Grappled  with  the  bear  and  conquered; 
Took  his  black  claws  for  a  necklet, 
Took  his  black  hide  for  a  blanket. 

When  the  Panther  wed  the  Sea-Gull, 
Young  was  he  and  very  gladsome; 

7 


THE  SEA-GULL. 

Fair  was  she  and  full  of  laughter; 

Like  the  robin  in  the   spring-time, 

Sang  from  sunrise   till  the   sunset; 

For  she  loved  the  handsome  hunter. 

Dee])   as   Gitchee   Gumee's  waters 

Was  her  love — as  broad  and  boundless; 

And  the  wedded   twain    were  happy — 

Happy  as  the  mated  robins. 

When  their  first-born   saw  the  sunlight 

Joyful  was   the  heart  of  Panther, 

Proud  and  joyful   was   the  mother. 

All  the  days  were  full   of  sunshine; 

All  the  nights  were  full  of  star-light. 

Nightly  from  the   land  of  spirits 

On  them  smiled  the  starry  faces, — 

Faces  of  their  friends  departed. 

Little  moccasins  she  made  him, 

Feathered  cap  and  belt  of  wampum ; 

From  the  hide  of  fawn  a  blanket, 

Fringed  with  feathers,   soft  as  sable; 

Singing  at  her  pleasant  labor, 

By  her  side  the  tekenagun,  ° 

And  the  little  hunter  in  it. 

Oft  the  Panther  smiled  and  fondled, 

Smiled  upon  the  babe  and  mother, 

Frolicked  with  the  boy  and  fondled. 

Tall  he  grew  and  like  his  father, 

And  they  called  the  boy  the  Raven — 

Called  him  Kak-kah-ge — the  Raven. 

Happy  hunter  was  the  Panther. 

From  the  woods  he  brought  the  pheasant, 


THE  SEA-  GULL. 


Brought  the    red  deer  and  the  rabbit, 
Brought  the  trout  from  Gitchee  Gumee — 
Brought  the  mallard  from  the  marshes, — 
Royal  feast  for  boy  and  mother : 
Brought  the  hides  of  fox  and  beaver, 
Brought  the  skins  of  mink  and  otter, 
Lured  the  loon  and  took  his  blanket, 
Took  his  blanket  for  the  Raven. 

Winter  swiftly  followed  winter, 

And  again  the  tekenagun 

Held  a  babe — a  tawny  daughter, 

Held  a  dark -eyed,  dimpled  daughter; 

And  they  called  her  Waub-omee'-mee,— 

Thus  they  named  her — the  White-Pigeon. 

But  as  winter  followed  winter 

Cold  and  sullen  grew  the  Panther; 

Sat  and  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence; 

When  he  spoke  he  spoke  in  anger; 

In  the  forest  often  tarried 

Many  days,   and  homeward  turning, 

Brought  no  game  unto  his  wigwam  : 

Only  brought  his  empty  quiver, 

Brought  his  dark  and  sullen  visage. 

Sad  at  heart  and  very  lonely 
Sat  the  Sea-Gull  in  the  wigwam; 
Sat  and  swung  the  tekenagun, 
Sat  and  sang  to  Waub-omee-mee: 
Thus  she  sang  to  Waub-o'mee/-mee/, 
Thus  the  lullaby  she  chanted : 


100  THE  SEA  -  G  ULL. 

Wa-wa,  wa-wa,  wa-we-yea; 
Kah-ween,  nee-zheka  ke-diaus-ai, 
Ke-gah  nau-wai,  ne-me-go  s'ween, 
Ne-baun,  ne-baun,  ne-daun-is-ais, 
Wa-wa,  wa-wa,  wa-we-yea; 
Ne-baun,   ne-baun  ne-daun-is-ais, 
E-we  wa-wa,  wa-we-yea, 
E-we  wa-wa,  wa-we-yea. 

[TRANSLATION.] 

Swing,   swing,  little  one,  lullaby; 

Thou'rt  not  left  alone  to  weep; 

Mother  cares  for  you, — she  is  nigh; 

Sleep,  my  little    one,    sweetly    sleep; 

Swing,    swing,    little    one,   lullaby; 

Mother    watches   you, — she    is    nigh; 

Gently,    gently,    wee    one    swing; 

Gently,    gently,    while    I   sing 
E-we  wa-wa — lullaby, 
E-we   wa  -  wa — lullaby. 

Homeward   to   his   lodge  returning 
Kindly   greeting   found    the    hunter, 
Fire    to    warm    and   food    to    nourish, 
Golden    trout  from    Gitchee    Gumee, 
Caught   by    Kah-kah-ge — the  Raven. 
With   a   snare    he    caught    the    rabbit — 
Caught  Wabdse,7  the   furry  -  footed, 
Caught    Penay,7  the    forest -drummer; 
Sometimes    with   his   bow   and    arrows, 
Shot   the   red    deer   in    the   forest. 
Shot  the  squirrel  in  the .  pine-top, 
Shot    Ne-ka,   the    wild-goose,   flying. 
Proud   as   Waub-Ojeeg,    the    warrior, 


THE  SEA-GULL.  101 

To    the   lodge    he   bore  his    trophies. 

So    when '  homeward    turned    the    Panther, 

Ever   found   he    food   provided, 

Found    the    lodge  -  fire  brightly  burning, 

Found  the  faithful  Sea -Gull  waiting. 

"You  are  cold,"  she  said,   "and  famished; 

Here-  are  fire  and  food,  my  husband. " 

Not  by  word  or  look  he  answered; 

Only  ate  the  food  provided, 

Filled  his  pipe  and  pensive  puffed  it, 

Smoked  and  sat  in  sullen  silence. 

Once — her  dark  eyes  full  of  hunger- 
Thus  she  spoke  and  thus  besought  him : 
Tell  me,  O  my  silent  Panther, 
Tell  me,   O  beloved  husband, 
What  has  made  you  sad  and  sullen? 
Have  you  met  some  evil  spirit- 
Met  some  goblin  in  the  forest? 
Has  he  put  a  spell  upon  you — 
Filled  your  heart  with  bitter  waters, 
That  you  sit  so  sad  and  sullen, 
Sit  and  smoke,  but  never  answer, 
Only  when  the  storm  is  on  you?" 

Gruffly  then  the  Panther  answered : 
"Brave  among  the  brave  is  Panther, 
Son  of   Waub-Ojeeg,  the  warrior, 
And  the  brave  are  ever  silent; 
But  a  whining  dog  is  woman, 
Whining  ever  like  a  coward," 


102  THE  SEA  -  G  ULL. 

Forth  into  the  tangled  forest, 
Threading  through  the  thorny  thickets, 
Treading  trails  on  marsh  and  meadow, 
Sullen  strode  the  moody  hunter. 
Saw  he  not  the  bear  or  beaver, 
Saw  he  not  the  elk  or  roebuck; 
From  his  path  the  red  fawn  scampered, 
But  no  arrow  followed  after; 
From  his  den  the  sly  wolf  listened, 
But  no  twang  of  bow-string  heard  he. 
Like  one  walking  in  his  slumber, 
Listless,  dreaming,  walked  the  Panther; 
Surely  had  some  witch  bewitched  him, 
Some  bad  spirit  of  the  forest. 

When  th'e  Sea -Gull  wed  the  Panther, 
Fair  was  she  and  full  of  laughter; 
Like  the  robin  in  the  spring-time, 
Sang  from  sunrise  till  the  sunset; 
But  the  storms  of  many  winters 
Sifted  frost  upon  her  tresses, 
Seamed  her  tawny  face  with  wrinkles. 

Not  alone  the  storms  of  winters 
Seamed  her  tawny  face  with  wrinkles. 
Twenty  winters  for  the  Panther 
Had  she  ruled  the  humble  wigwam; 
For  her  haughty  lord  and  master 
Borne  the  burdens  on  the   journey, 
Gathered  fagots  for  the  lodge  -  fire, 
Tanned  the  skins  of  bear  and  beaver, 
Tanned  the  hides  of  moose  and  red -deer; 


THE  SEA  -  G  ULL.  103 

Made  him  moccasins  and  leggins, 
Decked  his  hood  with  quills  and  feathers — 
Colored  quills  of  Kaug,8     the  thorny, 
Feathers  from  Kene'w8  — the  eagle. 
For  a  warrior  brave  was  Panther; 
Often  had  he  met  the  foemen, 
Met  the  bold  and  fierce  Dakotas; 
Westward  on  the  war  -  path  met  them ; 
And  the  scalps  he  won  were  numbered, 
Numbered  seven  by  Kene'w  -  feathers. 
Sad  at  heart  was  Sea  -  Gull  waiting, 
Watching,  waiting  in  the  wigwam; 
Not  alone  the  storms  of  winters 
Sifted  frost  upon  her  tresses. 

Ka-be-bdn-ik-ka,9  the  mighty, 
He  that  sends  the  cruel  winter, 
He  that  turned  to  stone  the  Giant, 
From  the  distant  Thunder -mountain, 
Far  across  broad  Gitchee  Gumee, 

• 

Sent  his  warning -of  the  winter, 
Sent  the  white  frost  and  Kewaydin,10 
Sent  the  swift  and  hungry  North -wind. 
Homeward  to  the  South  the  Summer 
Turned  and  fled  the  naked  forests. 
With  the  Summer  flew  the  robin, 
Flew  the  bobolink  and  blue -bird. 
Flock  wise  following  chosen  leaders, 
Like    the    shaftless   heads    of    arrows 
Southward  cleaving  through  the  ether, 
Soon  the  wild  -  geese  followed  after. 


104  THE  SEA  -  G  ULL. 

m  the  Sea -Gull  waited, 
\Vdtciied  and  waited  for  her  husband, 
Till  at  last  she  heard  his  footsteps, 
Heard  huii  coming  through  the  thicket. 
Forth   .        went  to  meet  her  husband, 
•&     Joyful  went  to  greet  her  husband. 
Lo  behind  the  haughty  hunter, 
CloLelv  following  in  his  footsteps, 
Wnn  jd  a  young  and  handsome  worn-"- 

ked  the  Red    Fox  from  the  is.  ,* 
G itchee  Menis — the  Grand  Island, — 
Followed  him  into  the  wigwam, 
Prrwdl"       .ok  her  seat  beside  him. 
f'n      -     Rod    Fox  smiled  the  hunter, 
OA  the^iiinter  smiled  the  woman. 

Old  ab<-  wrinkled  was  the  Sea -Gull, 
Good  and  true,   but  old  and  wrinkled. 
Twenty  winters  for  the  Panther 
Had  she  n  '   i  the  Humble  wigwam, 
Borne  the  biu  lens  on  the  journey, 
Gathered  fagots  for  the  lodge -me, 
Tanned  the  skins  of  bea.   and  beaver, 
Tanned  the  hides  of   moose  and  red  deer, 
Made  him  moccasins  and  leggins, 
Decked  his  hood  wuh  quills  and  feathers, 
Colored  quills  of  Kaug,  the  thorny, 
Feathers  from  the  great  war -eagle; 
Ever  diligent  and  faithful, 
Ever  patient,  ne'er  complaining. 
But  like  all  brave  men  the  Panther 


THE  SEA-GULL. 


Loved  a  young  and  handsome  woman  ; 
So  he  dallied  with  the  danger, 
Dallied  with  the  fair  AlgcSnkin,11 
Till  a  magic  mead  she  gave  him, 
Brewed  of   buds  of  birch  and  cedar.1" 
Madly  then  he  loved  the  woman; 
Then  she  ruled  him,   then  she  held  him 
Tangled  in  her  raven  tresses, 
Tied  :'ii('   Angled  in  her  tresses. 

p 
Ah,  the  tall  and  tawny   Panther! 

Ah,   the  brave  and  brawny   Panther! 

Son  of  Waub- Pjeeg,   the  warrior! 

With  a  slender  hair  she  led  him, 

With  a  slender  hair  ^he  drew  him, 

Drew  him  often  to  her  wigwam; 

There  she  bound  him,  there  she  held  :iim 

Tangled  in  her  raven  tresses, 

Tied  and  tangled  in  her  tresses>W 

Ah,  the  best  of  men  are  tanglv 

Sometime  tangled  in  the  tresses 

Of  a  fai     and  crafty  woman. 


•a. 


So  the  Panther  wed  the  Red  Fox, 
And  she  followed  to  his  wigwam. 
Young  again 'he  seemed  and  gladsome, 
Glad  as  Raven  when  the  father 
Made  his  first  bow  from  the    elm-tree, 
From  the  ash-tree  made  his  arrows, 
Taught  him  how  to  aim  his  arrows, 
How  to  shoot  Wabose — the  rabbit. 


1 00  THE  SEA  -  G  ULL. 

Then  again  the  brawny   hunter 
Brought  the  black  bear  and  the  beaver, 
Brought  the  haunch  of  elk  and  red-deer, 
Brought  the  rabbit  and  the  pheasant — 
Choicest  bits  of  all  for  Red  Fox. 
For  her  robes  he  brought  the  sable, 
Brought  the  otter  and  the  ermine, 
Brought  the  black-fox  tipped  with  silver. 

But  the  Sea  -  Gull  murmured  never, 
Not  a  word  she  spoke  in  anger. 
Went  about  her  work  as  ever, 
«  Tanned  the  skins  of  bear  and  beaver, 
Tanned  the  hides  of  moose  and  red  deeff* 
Gathered  fagots  for  the  lodge  -  fire, 
Gathered  rushes  from  the  marshes; 
Deftly  into  mats  she  wove  them; 
Kept  the  lodge  as  bright  as  ever. 
Only  to  herself  she   murmured, 
All  alone  with  Waub -omee-mee, 
On  the  tall  and  toppling  highland, 
O'er  the  wilderness  of    waters; 
Murmured  to  the  murmuring  waters, 
Murmured  to  the  Nebe-naw-baigs — 

O 

To  the  spirits  of  the  waters; 

On  the  wild  waves  poured  her  sorrow, 

Save  the  infant  on  her  bosom 

With  her  dark  eyes  wide  with  wonder, 

None  to  hear  her  but  the  spirits, 

And  the  murmuring  pines  above  her. 

Thus  she  cast  away  her  burdens, 


THE  SEA  -  GULL.  107 

Cast  her  burdens  on  the  waters; 
Thus  unto  the  Mighty  Spirit, 
Made  her  lowly  lamentation : 
"Wahonowin  ! — Wahonowin  !13 
Gitchee  Manito,  bena-nin ! 
Nah,  Ba-ba,  showain  nemeshin ! 
Wahonowin ! — Wahonowin  ! " 

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka,9  the  mighty, 

He  that  sends  the  cruel  winter, 

From  the  distant  Thunder- mountain, 

On  the  shore  of  Gitchee  Gumee— 

On  the  rugged  northern  limit, 

Sent  his  solemn,  final  warning, 

Sent  the  white  wolves  of  the  Nor'land.14 

Like  the  dust  of   stars  in  ether — 

In  the  Pathway  of    the  Spirits,15 

Like  the  sparkling  dust  of   diamonds, 

Fell  the  frost  upon  the  forest, 

On  the  mountains  and  the  meadows, 

On  the  wilderness  of    woodland, 

On  the  wilderness  of    waters. 

All  the  lingering  fowls  departed— 

All  that  seek  the  South  in  winter, 

All  but  Shingebfs,   the  diver;10 

He  defies  the  Winter-maker, 

Sits  and  laughs  at  Winter-maker. 

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka,  the  mighty, 
From  his  wigwam  called  Kewaydin, — 
From  his  home  among  the  ice-bergs, 
From  the  sea  of  frozen  waters, 


THE  SEA-GULL. 

Called  the  swift  and  hungry  North-wind. 
Then  he  spread  his  mighty  pinions 
Over  all  the  land  and  shook  them. 
Like  the  white  down  of  Waube'se17 
Fell  the  feathery  snow  and  covered, 
All  the  marshes  and  the  meadows, 
All  the  hill-tops  and  the  highlands. 
Then  old  Peboan18  — the  winter — 
Laughed  along  the  stormy  waters, 
Danced  upon  the  windy  headlands, 
On  the  storm  his  white  hair  streaming, 
And  his  steaming  breath,  ascending, 
On  the  pine-tops  and  the  cedars 
Fell  in  frosty  mists  refulgent, 
Sprinkling  somber  shades  with  silver, 
Sprinkling  all  the  woods  with  silver. 

By  the  lodge-fire  all  the  winter 

Sat  the  Sea  -  Gull  and  the  Red  Fox, 

Sat  and  kindly  spoke  and  chatted, 

Till  the  twain   seemed  friends  together. 

Friends  they  seemed  in  word  and  action, 

But  within  the  breast  of  either 

Smouldered  still  the  baneful  embers — 

Fires  of  jealousy  and  hatred, — 

Like  a  camp-fire  in  the  forest 

Left  by  hunters  and  deserted; 

Only  seems  a  bed  of  ashes, 

But  the  East-wind,  Wabun-noodin, 

Scatters  through  the  woods  the  ashes, 

Fans  to  flame  the  sleeping  embers, 


THE  SEA-GULL.  109 

And  the  wild -fire  roars  and  rages, 
Roars  and  rages  through  the  forest. 
So  the  baneful  embers  smouldered, 
Smouldered  in  the  breast  of  either. 

From  the  far-off  Sunny  Islands, 
From  the  pleasant  land  of  Summer, 
Where  the  spirits  of  the  blessed 
Feel  no  more  the  fangs  of  hunger, 
Or  the  cold  breath  of  Kewaydin, 
Came  a  stately  youth  and  handsome, 
Came  Segun,19  the  foe  of  Winter. 
Like  the  rising  sun  his  face  was, 
Like  the  shining  stars  his  eyes  were, 
Light  his  footsteps  as  the  Morning's, 
In  his  hand  were  buds  and  blossoms, 
On  his  brow  a  blooming  garland. 
Straightway  to  the  icy  wigwam 
Of   old  Peboan,  the  Winter, 
Strode  Segun  and  quickly  entered. 
There  old  Peboan  sat  and  shivered, 
Shivered  o'er  his  dying  lodge -fire. 

"Ah,  my  son,   I  bid  you  welcome; 
Sit  and  tell  me  your  adventures; 
I  will  tell  you  of  my  power; 
We  will  pass  the  night  together. " 
Thus   spake  Peboan — the  Winter; 
Then  he  filled  his  pipe  and  lighted; 
Then  by  sacred  custom  raised  it 
To  the  spirits  in  the  ether; 


110  THE  SEA-GULL. 

To  the  spirits  in  the  caverns 

Of  the  hollow  earth  he  lowered  it. 

Thus  he  passed  it  to  the-  spirits, 

And  the  unseen  spirits  puffed  it. 

Next  himself   old  Peboan  honored; 

Thrice  he  puffed  his  pipe  and  passed  it, 

Passed  it  to  the  handsome  stranger. 

"Lo  I  blow  my  breath,"   said  Winter, 
"And  the  laughing  brooks  are  silent; 
Hard  as  flint  become  the  waters, 
And  the  rabbit  runs  upon   them." 

Then  Segiin,  the  fair  youth,   answered: 

"Lo  I  breathe  upon  the  hill  -  sides, 

On  the  valleys  and  the  meadows, 

And  behold,  as  if  by  magic — 

By  the  magic  of  the  Spirits, 

Spring  the  flowers  and  tender  grasses. " 

Then  old  Peboan  replying: 
"Nah!20  I  breathe  upon  the  forests, 
And  the  leaves  fall  sere  and  yellow; 
Then  I  shake  my  locks  and  snow  falls, 
Covering  all  the  naked  landscape. " 

1  Then  Segiin  arose  and  answered : 
"Nashke'!20- — see! — I  shake  my  ringlets; 
On  the  earth  the  warm  rain  falleth, 
And  the  flowers  look  up  like  children 
Glad  -  eyed  from  their  mother's  bosom. 
Lo  my  voice  recalls  the  robin, 


THE  SEA  -  GULL.  Ill 

Brings  the  bobolink  and  blue  -  bird, 
And  the  woods  are  full  of  music. 
With  my  breath  I  melt  their  fetters, 
And  the  brooks  leap  laughing  onward. " 

Then  old  Peboan  looked  upon  him, 
Looked  and  knew  Segiin.  the  Summer. 
From  his  eyes  the  big  tears  started 
And  his  boastful  tongue  was  silent. 

Now  Keezis21 — the  great  life -giver, 
From  his  wigwam  in  Waubii-nong21 
Rose  and  wrapped  his  shining  blanket 
Round  his  giant  form  and  started, 
Westward  started  on  his  journey, 
Striding  on  from  hill  to  hill-top. 
Upward  then  he  climbed  the  ether — 
On  the  Bridge  of  Stars22  he  traveled, 
Westward  traveled  on  his  journey 
To  the  far-off  Sunset  Mountains — 
To  the  gloomy  land  of  shadows. 

On  the  lodge-poles  sang  the  robin, — 
And  the  brooks  began  to  murmur. 
On  the  South-wind  floated  fragrance 
Of  the  early  buds  and  blossoms. 
From  old  Pe'boan's  eyes  the  tear-drops 
Down  his  pale  face  ran  in  streamlets; 
Less  and  less  he  grew  in  stature 
Till  he  melted  down  to  nothing; 
And  beliold,  from  out  the  ashes, 


112  THE  SEA-GULL. 

From  the  ashes  of  his  lodge-fire, 
Sprang  the  Miscodeed83    and,  blushing, 
Welcomed  Segiin  to  the  North-land. 

So  from  Sunny  Isles  returning, 
From  the  Summer-Land  of  spirits, 
On  the  poles  of  Panther's  wigwam 
Sang  Opee-chee — sang  the  robin. 
In  the  maples  cooed  the  pigeons — 
Cooed  and  wooed  like  silly  lovers. 
"Hah! — hah!"  laughed  the  crow  derisive, 
In  the  pine-top,  at  their  folly, — 
Laughed  and  jeered  the  silly  lovers. 
Blind  with  love  were  they,  and  saw  not; 
Deaf  to  all  but  love,  and  heard  not; 
So  they  cooed  and  wooed  unheeding, 
Till  the  gray  hawk  pounced  upon  them, 
And  the  old  crow  shook  with  laughter. 

On  the  tall  cliff  by  the  sea-shore 
Red  Fox  made  a  swing.     She  fastened 
Thongs  of  moose-hide  to  the  pine-tree, 
To  the  strong  arm  of  the  pine-tree. 
Like  a  hawk,  above  the  waters, 
There  she  swung  herself  and  fluttered, 
Laughing  at  the  thought  of  danger, 
Swung  and  fluttered  o'er  the  waters. 
Then  she  bantered  Sea-Gull,  saying, 
"See! — I  swing  above  the  billows! 
Dare  you  swing  above  the  billows, — 
Swing  like  me  above  the  billows?" 


THE  SEA-GULL.  113 

To  herself  said  Sea-Gull — "Surely 

I  will  dare  whatever  danger 

Dares  the  Red  Fox — dares  my  rival; 

She  shall  never  call  me  coward. " 

So  she  swung  above  the  waters — 

Dizzy  height  above  the  waters, 

Pushed  and  aided  by  her  rival, 

To  and  fro  with  reckless  daring, 

Till  the  strong  tree  rocked  and  trembled, 

Rocked  and  trembled  with  its  burden. 

As  above  the  yawning  billows 

Flew  the  Sea-Gull  like  a  whirlwind, 

Red  Fox,  swifter  than  red  lightning, 

Cut  the  cords,  and  headlong  downward, 

Like  an  osprey  from  the  ether, 

Like  a  wild-goose  pierced  with  arrows, 

Fluttering  fell  the  frantic  woman, 

Fluttering  fell  into  the  waters — 

Plunged  and  sunk  beneath  the  waters! 

Hark! — the  wailing  of  the  West-wind! 

Hark ! — the  wailing  of  the  waters, 

And  the  beating  of  the  billows! 

But  no  more  the  voice  of  Sea-Gull. 

In  the  wigwam  sat  the  Red  Fox, 
Hushed  the  wail  of  Waub-omee-omee, 
Weeping  for  her  absent  mother. 
With  the  twinkling  stars  the  hunter 
From  the  forest  came  and  Raven. 
"Sea-Gull  wanders  late,"  said  Red  Fox, 
"  Late  she  wanders  by  the  sea  -  shore, 
And  some  evil  may  befall  her. " 

8 


114  THE  SEA-GULL. 

In  the  misty  morning  twilight 

Forth  went  Panther  and  the  Raven, 

Searched  the  forest  and  the  marshes, 

Searched  for  leagues  along  the  lake -shore, 

Searched  the  islands  and  the  highlands; 

But  they  found  no  trace  or  tidings, 

Found  no  track  in  marsh  or  meadow, 

P'ound  no  trail  in  fen  or  forest, 

On  the  shore  -  sand  found  no  foot  -  prints. 

Many  days  they  sought  and  found  not. 

Then  to  Panther  spoke  the  Raven : 

"She  is  in  the  Land  of   Spirits — 

Surely  in  the  Land  of   Spirits. 

High  at  midnight  I  beheld  her — 

Like  a  flying  star  beheld  her — 

To  the  waves  of   Gitchee  Gumee, 

Downward  flashing  through  the  ether. 

Thus  she  flashed  that  I  might  see  her, 

See  and  know  my  mother's  spiiit; 

Thus  she  pointed  to  the  waters, 

And  beneath  them  lies  her  body, 

In  the  wigwam  of   the  spirits — 

In  the  lodge  of    Nebe  -  naw  -  baigs.  " 24 

Then  spoke  Panther  to  the  Raven : 
"On  the  tall  cliff  by  the  waters 
Wait  and  watch  with  Waub  -  omee  -  mee. 
If  the  Sea  -  Gull  hear  the  wailing 
Of   her  infant  she  will  answer. " 

On  the  tall  cliff  by  the  waters  „ 
So  the  Raven  watched  and  waited; 


THE  SEA  -  GULL. 

All  the  day  he  watched  and  waited, 
But  the  hungry  infant  slumbered, 
Slumbered  by  the  side  of  Raven, 
Till  the  pines'  gigantic  shadows 
Stretched  and  pointed  to  Waubii-nong21  — 
To  the  far-off  land  of   Sunrise; 
Then  the  wee  one  woke  and  famished, 
Made  a  long  and  piteous  wailing. 

From  afar  where  sky  and  waters 
Meet  in  misty  haze  and  mingle, 
Straight  toward  the  rocky  highland, 
Straight  as  flies  the  feathered  arrow, 
Straight  to  Raven  and  the  infant 
Swiftly  flew  a  snow-white  sea-gull, — 
Flew  and  touched  the  earth  a  woman. 
And  behold,  the  long-lost  mother 
Caught  her  wailing  child  and  nursed  her, 
Sang  a  lullaby  and  nursed  her. 

Thrice  was  wound  a  chain  of  silver 
Round  her  waist  and  strongly  fastened. 
Far  away  into  the  waters — 
To  the  wigwam  of  the  spirits, — 
To  the  lodge  of  Ne-be-naw-baigs, — 
Stretched  the  magic  chain  of  silver. 

Spoke  the  mother  to  the  Raven : 

fc  my  son, — my  brave  young  hunter, 

Feed  my  tender  little  orphan; 

Be  a  father  to  my  orphan; 

Be  a  mother  to  my  orphan, — 


116  THE    SEA-GULL. 

For  the  crafty  Red  Fox  robbed  us, — 
Robbed  the  Sea-Gull  of  her  husband, 
Robbed  the  infant  of  her  mother. 
From  this  cliff  the  treacherous  woman 
Headlong  into  Gitchee  Gumee 
Plunged  the  mother  of  my  orphan. 
Then  a  Nebe-naw-baig  caught  me, — 
Chief  of  all  the  Nebe-naw-baigs — 
Took  me  to  his  shining  wigwam, 
In  the  cavern  of  the  waters, 
Deep  beneath  the  mighty  waters. 
All  below  is  burnished  copper, 
All  above  is  burnished  silver 
Gemmed  with  amethyst  and  agates. 
As  his  wife  the  Spirit  holds  me; 
By  this  silver  chain  he  holds  me. 

When  my  little  one  is  famished, 
When  with  long  and  piteous  wailing 
Cries  the  orphan  for  her  mother, 
Hither  bring  her,   O  my  Raven ; 
I  will  hear  her, — I  will  answer. 
Now  the  Nebe-naw-baig  calls  me, — 
Pulls  the  chain, — I  must  obey  him. " 

Thus  she  spoke  and  in  the  twinkling 
Of  a  star  the  spirit-woman 
Changed  into  a  snow-white  sea-gull, 
Spread  her  wings  and  o'er  the  waters 
Swiftly  flew  and  swiftly  vanished. 

Then  in  secret  to  the  Panther 
Raven  told  his  tale  of  wonder. 


THE  SEA-GULL.  117 

Sad  and  sullen  was  the  hunter; 

Sorrow  gnawed  his  heart  like  hunger; 

All  the  old  love  came  upon  him, 

And  the  new  love  was  a  hatred. 

Hateful  to  his  heart  was  Red  Fox, 

But  he  kept  from  her  the  secret — 

Kept  his  knowledge  of  the  murder. 

Vain,  was  she  and  very  haughty — 

Oge-ma-kwa25    of  the  wigwam. 

All  in  vain  her  fond  caresses 

On  the  Panther  now  she  lavished; 

When  she  smiled  his  face  was  sullen, 

When  she  laughed  he  frowned  upon  her; 

In  her  net  of  raven  tresses 

Now  no  more  she  held  him  tangled. 

Now  through  all  her  fair  disguises 

Panther  saw  an  evil  spirit, 

Saw  the  false  heart  of  the  woman. 

On  the  tall  cliff  o'er  the  waters 
Raven  sat  with  Waub-omee-mee, 
Sat  and  watched  again  and  waited, 
Till  the  wee  one  faint  and  famished, 
Made  a  long  and  piteous  wailing. 
Then  again  the  snow-white  Sea-Gull, 
From  afar  where  sky  and  waters 
Meet  in  misty  haze  and  mingle, 
Straight  toward  the  rocky  highland, 
Straight  as  flies  the  feathered  arrow, 
Straight  to  Raven  and  the  infant, 
With  the  silver  chain  around  her, 


118  THE  SEA  -  GULL. 

Flew  and  touched  the  earth  a  woman. 
In  her  arms  she  caught  her  infant — 
Caught  the  wailing  Waub-omee-mee, 
Sang  a  lullaby  and  nursed  her. 

Sprang  the  Panther  from  the  thicket — 
Sprang  and  broke  the  chain  of  silver! 
With  his  tomahawk   he  broke  it. 
Thus  he  freed  the  willing  Sea-Gull — 
From  the  Water  -  Spirit  freed  her, 
From  the  Chief  of  Nebe-naw-baigs. 

Very  angry  was  the  Spirit; 

When  he  drew  the  chain  of  silver, 

Drew  and  found  that  it  was  broken, 

Found  that  he  had  lost  the  woman, 

Very  angry  was  the  Spirit.  • 

Then  he  raged  beneath  the  waters, 

Raged  and  smote  the  mighty  waters, 

Till  the  big  sea  boiled  and  bubbled, 

Till  the  white-haired,  bounding  billows 

Roared  around  the  rocky  head-lands, 

Roared  and  plashed  upon  the  shingle. 

To  the  wigwam  happy  Panther, 
As  when  first  he  wooed  and  won  her, 
Led  his  wife — as  young  and  handsome. 
For  the  waves  of  Gitchee  Gumee 
Washed  away  the  frost  and  wrinkles, 
And  the  Spirits  by  their  magic 
Made  her  young  and  fair  forever. 


THE  SEA-GULL.  119 

In  the  wigwam  sat  the  Red  Fox, 
Sat  and  sang  a  song  of  triumph, 
For  she  little  dreamed  of  danger, 
Till  the  haughty  hunter  entered, 
Followed  by  the  happy  mother, 
Holding  in  her  arms  her  infant. 
When  the  Red  Fox  saw  the  Sea-Gull- 
Saw  the  dead  a  living  woman, 
One  wild  cry  she  gave  despairing, 
One  wild  cry  as  of  a  demon. 
Up  she  sprang  and  from  the  wigwam 
To  the  tall  cliff  flew  in  terror; 
Frantic  sprang  upon  the  margin, 
Frantic  plunged  into  the  waters, 
Headlong  plunged  into  the  waters. 

Dead  she  tossed  upon  the  billows; 
For  the  Nebe-naw-baigs  knew  her, 
Knew  the  crafty,  wicked  woman, 
And  they  cast  her  from  the  waters, 
Spurned  her  from   their  shining  wigwams; 
Far  away  upon  the  shingle 
With  the  roaring  waves  they  cast  her. 
There  upon  her  bloated  body 
Fed  the  cawing  crows  and  ravens, 
Fed  the  hungry  wolves  and  foxes. 

On  the  shore  of  Gitchee  Gumee, 
Ever  young  and  ever  handsome, 
Long  and  happy  lived  the  Sea-Gull, 
Long  and  happy  with  the  Panther. 


120  THE  SEA-  GULL. 

Evermore  the  happy  hunter 
Loved  the  mother  of  his  children. 
Like  a  red  star  many  winters 
Blazed  their  lodge-fire  on  the  sea-shore. 
O'er  the  Bridge  of  Souls20    together 
Walked  the  Sea-Gull  and  the  Panther. 
To  the  far-off  Sunny  Islands — 
To  the  Summer-Land  of  Spirits, 
Where  no  more  the  happy  hunter 
Feels  the  fangs  of  frost  or  famine, 
Or  the  keen  blasts  of  Kewaydin, 
Where  no  pain  or  sorrow  enters, 
And  no  crafty,  wicked  woman, 
Sea-Gull  journeyed  with  her  husband. 
There  she  rules  his  lodge  forever, 
And  the  twain  are  very  happy, 
On  the  far-off  Sunny  Islands, 
In  the  Summer-Land  of  Spirits. 

On  the  rocks  of  Gitchee  Gumee — 
On  the  Pictured  Rocks — the  Legend 
Long  ago  was  traced  and  written, 
Pictured  by  the  Water-Spirits; 
But  the  storms  of  many  winters 
Have  bedimmed  the  pictured  story, 
So  that  none  can  read  the  legend 
But  the  Jossakeeds,27    the   prophets. 


CRYSTAL    BAY,   LAKE    I.IINNETONKA. 


^INNETON^A, 


I  sit  once  more  on  breezy  shore,  at  sunset  in  this  glorious  June, 
I  hear  the  dip  of  gleaming  oar,  I  list  the  singers'  merry  tune. 
Beneath  my  feet  the  waters  beat,  and  ripple  on  the  polished  stones, 
The  squirrel  chatters  from  his  seat;  the  bag-pipe  beetle  hums  and  drones. 

*The    Dakota   name  for   this  beautiful  lake  is  Me-ne-a-tan-ka — Broad  Water.     By 
dropping  the  "a"  before  "tanka"  we  have  changed  the  name  to  Big  Water. 


122  MINNETONKA. 

The  pink  and  gold  in  blooming  wold, — the  green  hills  mirrored  in  the  lake ! 
The  deep,  blue  waters,  zephyr-rolled,  along  the  murmuring  pebbles  break. 
The  maples  screen  the  ferns,  and  lean  the  leafy  lindens  o'er  the  deep; 
The  sapphire,  set  in  emerald  green,  lies  like  an  Orient  gem  asleep. 
The  crimsoned  west  glows  like  the  breast  of  Rhuddin*  when  he  pipes  in  May, 
As  downward  droops  the  sun  to  rest,  and  shadows  gather  on  the  bay. 
In  amber  sky  the  swallows  fly,  and  sail  and  circle  o'er  the  deep; 
The  light-winged  night-hawks  whir  and  cry ;  the  silver  pike  and  salmon  leap. 
The  rising  moon,  the  woods  aboon,  looks  laughing  down  on  lake  and  lea; 
Weird  o'er  the  waters  shrills  the  loon ;  the  high  stars  twinkle  in  the  sea. 
From  bank  and  hill  the  whippowil  sends  piping  forth  his  flute-like  notes, 
And  clear  and  shrill  the  answers  trill  from  leafy  isles  and  silver  throats. 
The  twinkling  light  on  cape  and  height;  the  hum  of  voices  on  the  shores; 
The  merry  laughter  on  the  night ;  the  dip  and  plash  of  frolic  oars, — 
These  tell  the  tale.     On  hill  and  dale  the  cities  pour  their  gay  and  fair ; 
Along  the  sapphire  lake  they  sail,  and  quaff  like  wine  the  balmy  air. 

'Tis  well.     Of  yore  from  isle  and  shore  the  smoke  of  Indian  teepeest  rose; 

The  hunter  plied  the  silent  oar;  the  forest  lay  in  still  repose. 

The  moon-faced  maid,  in  leafy  glade,  her  warrior  waited  from  the  chase ; 

The  nut-brown,  naked  children  played,  and  chased  the  gopher  on  the  grass. 

The  dappled  fawn,  on  wooded  lawn,  peeped  out  upon  the  birch  canoe, 

Swift-gliding  in  the  gray  of  dawn  along  the  silent  waters  blue. 

In  yonder  tree  the  great  Wanm~dee%  securely  built  her  spacious  nest; 

The  blast  that  swept  the  land-locked  sea§  but  rocked  her  clamorous 

babes  to  rest. 

By  grassy  mere  the  elk  and  deer  gazed  on  the  hunter  as  he  came; 
Nor  fled  with  fear  from  bow  or  spear; — "so  wild  were  they  that   they  were 

tame. " 

*The  Welsh  name  for  the  robin.          §Lake  Superior. 
tLodges.     JWanm-dee — the  war-eagle  of  the    Dakotas. 


MINNETONKA.  123 

Ah,  birch  canoe,  and  hunter,  too,  have  long  forsaken  lake  and  shore ; 
He  bade  his  fathers'  bones  adieu  and  turned  away  forevermore. 
But  still,    methinks,  on  dusky  brinks  the  spirit  of  the  warrior  moves; 
At  crystal  springs  the  hunter  drinks,   and  nightly  haunts  the  spot  he  loves. 
For  oft  at  night  I  see  the  light  of  lodge-fires  on  the  shadowy  shores, 
And  hear  the  wail  some  maiden's  sprite  above  her  slaughtered  warrior  pours. 
I  hear  the  sob,  on  Spirit  Knob,'f  of  Indian  mother  o'er  her  child; 
And  on  the  midnight  waters  throb  her  low  yun-he-he 'jf  weird  and  wild. 
And  sometimes,  too,  the  light  canoe  glides  like  a  shadow  o'er  the  deep 
At  midnight,  when  the  moon  is  low,  and  all  the  shores  are  hushed  in  sleep. 

Alas, — Alas! — for  all  things  pass;  and  we  shall  vanish,  too,  as  they; 
We  build  our  monuments  of  brass,  and  granite,  but  they  waste  away. 

*Spirit-knob  is  a  small  hill  upon  a  point  in  the  lake  in  full  view  from  Wayzata. 
The  spirit  of  a  Dakota  mother,  whose  only  child  was   drowned  in  the  lake  during  a 
storm,  many,  many  years  ago,  often  wails  at  midnight  (so  the  Dakotas  say),  on   this 
hill.     So  they  called  it    Wa-na-gee  Pa-zo-dan — Spirit-Knob.     (Literally — little  hill  of 
the  spirit.) 

tPronounced  Yoon-hay-hay — the  exclamation  used  by  Dakota  women  in  their  lament 
for  the  dead,  and  equivalent  to  "woe-is-me." 


NOTES, 


1  Called  in  the   Dakota  tongue  "Hok-see-win-na-pee  Wo-han-pee"- 
Vij gins'  Dance  (or  Feast). 

2  One  of  the  favorite  and  most  exciting  games  of  the   Dakotas  is  ball- 
playing.     A  smooth  place  on  the  prairie,  or  in  winter,  on  a  frozen  lake  or 
river,  is  chosen.     Each  player  has  a  sort  of  bat,  called  "Ta-ke'e-cha-pse'-cha, " 
about  thirty-two  inches   long  with    a  hoop    at    the  lower  end  four  or  five 
inches  in  diameter,   interlaced  with  thongs  of   deer-skin,  forming  a  sort  of 
pocket.       With  these  bats  they  catch  and  throw  the  ball.       Stakes  are  set 
as  bounds  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  centre  on  either  side.     Two 
parties  are  then  formed,  and  each    chooses    a  leader  or  chief.     The   ball 
(Ta-pa)  is  then   thrown  up   half  way  between   the   bounds  and  the    game 
begins,  the  contestants  contending   with  their    bats  for  the  ball  as  it  falls. 
When  one  succeeds  in  getting  it  fairly  in   the  pocket  of  his  bat  he   swings 
it  aloft  and  throws  it  as  far  as  he  can  towards  the  bound  to  which  his  party 
is  working,  taking  care  to  send  it,  if  possible,  where  some  of  his  own  side 
will  take   it  up.     Thus  the  ball  is  thrown  and  contended  for  till  one  party 
succeeds  in  casting  it  beyond  the  bound  of  the  opposite  party.     A  hundred 
players  on  a  side  are  sometimes  engaged  in  this  exciting  game.     Betting 
on  the  result  often  runs  high.     Moccasins,  pipes,  knives,  hatchets,  blank 
ets,  robes  and  guns  are  hung  on  the  prize-pole.     Not  unfrequently  horses 
are  staked  on   the   issue,    and   sometimes   even   women.     Old  men   and 
mothers  are  among  the   spectators   praising   their  swift-footed  sons,   and 
young  wives  and  maidens  are  there  to  stimulate  their  husbands  and  lovers. 
This  game  is   not  confined  to   the  warriors,  but   is   also  a  favorite   amuse 
ment  of  the  Dakota  maidens  who  generally   play  for  prizes  offered  by  the 
chief  or  warriors.     (See   Neill's   Hist.   Minn.,  pp  74-5;     Riggs'    "Takoo 
Wakan,"  pp  44-5,  and  Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah,  p  55. 


NOTES.  125 

3  Pronounced  Wah-zee-yah.     The  god  of  the  North,   or  Winter.     A 
fabled  spirit  who  dwells  in  the  frozen  North,  in  a  great  teepee  of  ice  and 
snow.     From  his   mouth  and  nostrils  he  blows  the  cold  blasts  of  winter. 
He  and  "I-to-ka-ga  Wi-cas-ta" — the  spirit  or   god   of  the  South  (literally 
the  "South  Man"),  are   inveterate    enemies,  and   always  on  the   war-path 
against  each  other.     In  winter  Wa-zi-ya  advances   southward  and  drives 
"I-to-ka-ga  Wi-cas-ta"  before  him  to  the   Summer-Islands.     But  in  Spring 
the  god  of  the   South,   having  renewed  his   youth  and    strength,   in   the 
"Happy  Hunting  Grounds,"  is  able  to  drive  Wa-zi-ya  back  again  to  his  icy 
wigwamf  in   the  North.      Some   Dakotas   say  that   the   numerous  granite 
boulders,    scattered  over   the  prairies  of   Minnesota  and    Dakota,    were 
hurled  in  battle   by  Wa-zi-ya  from  his  home  in  the   North  at  "I-to-ka-ga 
Wi-cas-ta. "     The  Wa-zi-ya  of    the  Dakotas  is  substantially  the   same   as 
u  Ka-be-bon-ik-ka" — the  "Winter-maker"  of  the  Ojibways. 

4  Mendota — (meeting  of  the  waters)  at  the  confluence  of  the  Mississip 
pi  and  Minnesota  rivers.     See    view  of  the  valley — front  cut.     The  true 
Dakota  word  is  Mdo-te — applied  to  the  mouth  of  a  river  flowing  into  an 
other, — also  to  the  outlet  of  a  lake. 

5  Pronounced  Wee-wah-stay;  literally — a  beautiful  virgin,    or  woman. 

6  Cetan-wa-ka-wa-mani — "He  who  shoots  pigeon-hawks  walking" — was 
the  full  Dakota  name  of  the  grandfather  of  the  celebrated    "Little  Crow" 
(Ta-6-ya-te-dii-ta. — His    Red  People)  who   led  his  warriors  in  the  terrible 
outbreak  in  Minnesota  in  1862 — 3.     The    Chippewas    called   the  grand 
father  "Ka-ka-kee" — crow  or  raven — from  his  war-badge,  a  crow-skin;  and 
hence  the  French  traders  and  courriers  du  bois  called  him  "Petit  Cor  beau" 
— Little  Crow.     This  sobriquet,  of  which  he  was  proud,  descended  to  his 
son,  Wakinyan    Tanka — Big  Thunder,  who    succeeded  him  as  chief;  and 
from  Big  Thunder    to  his  son  Ta-d-ya-te-dii-ta,   who  became    chief   on  the 
death  of  Wakinyan  Tanka.    These  several  "Little  Crows"  were  successively 
Chiefs  of    the   Light-foot,  or    Kapoza   band    of   Dakotas.     Kapoza,    the 
principal  village  of  this  band*,  was  originally  located  on  the  east  bank  of  the 
Mississippi  near  the  site  of  the  city  of   St.  Paul.     Col.  Minn.  Hist.  Soc., 
1864,  p.  29.   It  was  in  later  years  moved  to  the  west  bank.   The  grandfather, 
whom  I,  for  short,  call  Wakawa,  died  the  death  of  a  brave  in  battle  against 
the  Ojibways  (commonly  called  Chippewas) — the  hereditary  enemies  of  the 


126  NOTES. 

Dakotas.  Wakinyan  Tanka, — Big  Thunder,  was  killed  by  the  accidental 
discharge  of  his  own  gun.  They  were  both  buried  with  their  kindred  near 
the  "Wakan  Teepee, "  the  sacred  Cave — (Carver's  Cave).  Ta-d-ya-te-dii-ta, 
the  last  of  the  Little  Crows,  was  killed  July  3,  1863,  near  Hutchinson, 
Minnesota,  by  one  Lamson,  and  his  bones  were  duly  "done  up"  for  the 
Historical  Society  of  Minnesota.  For  a  part  of  the  foregoing  information 
I  am  indebted  to  Gen.  H.  H.  Sibley.  See  Heard's  Hist.  Sioux  War,  and 
Neill's  Hist.  Minnesota,  Third  Edition. 

7  Harps-te-nah.   The  first-born  daughter  of  a  Dakota  is  -called  Winona; 
the  second,   Harpen;  the   third,.  Harpstina;  the  fourth,  Waska;  the  fifth, 
Weharka.     The  first  born  son  is  called  Chaske ;  the  second,  Harpam ;  the 
third,   Hapeda;  the  fourth,   Chatun;  the  fifth,  Harka.     They  retain  these 
names  till  others  are  given  them  on  account  of  some  action,  peculiarity,  etc. 
The  females  often  retain  their  child-names  through  life. 

8  Wah-pah-sah  was  the  hereditary  name  of  a  long  and  illustrious  line  of 
Dakota  Chiefs.     Wabashaw  is  a  corrupt  pronounciation.     The  name  is  a 
contraction  of  "Wa-pa-ha-sa, "  which   is  from  "Wa-ha-pa, "  the  standard  or 
pole  used  in  the  Dakota  dances,  and  upon  which  feathers  of  various  colors 
are  tied,  and  not  from  "Wa-pa" — leaf  or  leaves,  as  has  been  generally  sup 
posed.    Therefore  Wapasa  means  the  Standard — and  not  the  "  Leaf- Shaker, " 
as  many  writers  have  it.     The  principal  village  of  these  hereditary  Chiefs  was 
Ke-iik-sa,  or  Ke-6-sa, — where  now  stands  the  fair  city  of  Winona.     Ke-iik- 
sa  signifies — The  village  of  law-breakers;  so-called  because  this  band  broke 
the  law  or  custom  of  the  Dakotas  against  marrying  blood  relatives  of  any 
degree.     I  get  this  information  from  Rev.  Stephen  R.  Riggs,  author  of  the 
Dakota  Grammar  and  Dictionary,   " Takoo  Wakan,"  etc.     Wapasa,  grand 
father  of  the  last  Chief  of  that  name,  and  a  contemporary  of  Cetan-Wa-ka- 
wa-mani,  was  a  noted  Chief,  arid  a  friend  of  the  British  in  the  war  of  the 
Revolution.     Neill's  Hist.  Minn.,  pp.  225 — 9. 

9  E-ho,  E-to — Exclamations  of  surprise  and  delight. 
TO  Mah-gah — The  wild-goose. 

1 1  Tee-pee — A  lodge  or  wigwam,  often  contracted  to  "  tee.  " 

12  Pronounced  Mahr-pee-yah-doo-tah — literally,  Cloud  Red. 

13  Pronounced  Wahnmdee — The  War-Eagle.      Each  feather  worn  by  a 
warrior  represents  an  enemy  slain  or  captured — man,  woman  or  child;  but 


NOTES.  127 

the  Dakotas,  before  they  became  desperate  under  the  cruel  warfare  of  their 
enemies,  generally  spaved  the  lives  of  their  captives,  and  never  killed 
women  or  infants,  except  in  rare  instances,  under  the  lex  talionis.  Neill's 
Hist.  Minn.,  p.  1 12. 

14  Mah-td — The  polar  bear — ursus  maritimus.  The  Dakotas  say  that, 
in  olden  times,  white  bears  were  often  found  about  Rainy  Lake  and  the 
Lake  of  the  Woods,  in  winter,  and  sometimes  as  far  south  as  the  mouth  of 
the  Minnesota.  They  say  one  was  once  killed  at  White  Bear  Lake  (but 
a  few  miles  from  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis),  and  they  therefore  named  the 
lake  Mede'  Mato— White  Bear  Lake. 

15  The  H6-he  (H6-hay)  are  the  Assiniboins  or  "Stone-roasters." 
Their  home  is  the  region  of  the  Assiniboin  river  in  British  America. 
They  speak  the  Dakota  tongue,  and  originally  were  a  band  of  that  nation. 
Tradition  says  a  Dakota  "Helen"  was  the  cause  of  the  separation  and  a 
bloody  feud  that  lasted  for  many  years.  The  Hohes  are  called  "Stone 
roasters,"  because,  until  recently  at  least,  they  used  "Wa-ta-pe"  kettles  and 
vessels  made  of  birch  bark  in  which  they  cooked  their  food.  They  boiled 
water  in  these  vessels  by  heating  stones  and  putting  them  in  the  water. 
The  "wa-ta-pe"  kettle  is  made  of  the  fibrous  roots  of  the  white  cedar,  in 
terlaced  and  tightly  woven.  When  the  vessel  is  soaked  it  becomes  water 
tight.  [Snelling's]  Tales  of  the  North  west,  p  21,  Mackenzie's  Travels. 

1 6  Hey-6-ka  is  one  of  the  principal  Dakota  deities.     He  is  a  Giant,  but 
can  change  himself  into  a  buffalo,  a  bear,  a  fish  or  a  bird.      He  is  called 
the  Anti-natural  God  or  Spirit.     In  summer  he  shivers  with  cold,  in  winter 
he  suffers  from  heat ;  he  cries  when  he  laughs  and  he  laughs  when  he  cries, 
&c.      He  is  the  reverse  of  nature  in  all  things.      Hey  oka  is  universally  feared 
and    reverenced  by  the   Dakotas,  but   so   severe   is   the  ordeal   that   the 
Heyoka  Wacipee  (the  dance  to  Heyoka)  is  now  rarely  celebrated.     It  is 
said  that  the  "Medicine-men"  use  a  secret  preparation  which  enables  them 
to  handle  fire  and   dip  their  hands  in  boiling   water  without  injury,  and 
thereby  gain  great  eclat  from  the  uninitiated.     The  chiefs  and  the  leading 
warriors  usually  belong  to  the  secret  order  of  "Medicine-men,"  or  "Sons  of 
Unkte'hee" — the  Spirit  of  the  Waters. 

17  The  Dakota  name  for  the  moon  is  Han-ye-tu-wee — literally,  Night- 
Sun.     He  is  the  twin  brother  of  An-pe'-tu-wee — the  Day-Sun.     See  note  70. 


128  NOTES. 

1 8  The  Dakotas  believe  that  the  stars  are  the  spirits  of  their  departed 
friends. 

19  Tee — Contracted  from  teepee,  lodge  or  wigwam,  and  means  the  same. 

20  For  'all  their  sacred  feasts  the  Dakotas  kindle  a  new  fire  called  "The 
Virgin  Fire."     This  is' done  with  flint  and   steel,  or  by  rubbing  together 
pieces  of  wood  till  friction  produces  fire.      It  must  be  done  by  a  virgin, 
nor  must  any  woman,  except  a  virgin,  ever  touch  the  "sacred  armor"  of  a 
Dakota  warrior.     White  cedar  is  "Wakan" — sacred.     See  note  50.    Riggs' 
"Tahkoo  Wakan,"  p.  84. 

21  All  Northern  Indians  consider  the  East  a  mysterious  and  sacred  land 
whence  comes  the  sun.   The  Dakota  name  for  the  East  is  Wee-yo-hee-yan-pa 
— the  sunrise.     The  Ojibways  call  it  Waub-d-nong — the  white  land  or  land 
of  light,  and  they  have  many  myths,  legends  and  traditions  relating  thereto. 
Barbarous  peoples  of  all  times  have  regarded   the  East  with  superstitious 
reverence,  simply  because  the  sun  rises  in  that  quarter. 

22  See  Mrs.   Eastman'.s   Dacotah,   pp.    225-8,   describing    the    feast  to 
Heyoka. 

23  This  stone  from  which  the  Dakotas  have  made  their  pipes  for  ages, 
is   esteemed   "wakan" — sacred.     They    call  it    I-yan-ska,    probably   from 
"fya,"  to  speak,  and  "ska, "  white,  truthful,  peaceful,— hence,  peace-pipe, 
herald  of  peace,  pledge  of  truth,  etc.     In  the  cabinet   at  Albany,  N.  Y., 
there  is  a  very  ancient  pipe  of  this  material  which   the  Troquois  obtained 
from   the   Dakotas.      Charlevoix  speaks  of  this  pipe-stone  in  his  History  of 
New  France.     LeSueur  refers  to   the  Yanktons  as   the  village  of  the  Da 
kotas  at  the  Red-Stone  Quarry,     See  NeilPs  Hist.  Minn.,  p.  514. 

24  "Ho"  is  an  exclamation  of  approval — yea,  yes,  bravo. 

25  Buying  is  the  honorable   way  of  taking  a  wife  among  the  Dakotas. 
The  proposed  husband  usually  gives  a  horse  or  its  value  in  other  articles 
to  the  father  or  natural  guardian  of  the  woman  selected — sometimes  against 
her  will.     See  note  75. 

26  The  Dakotas  believe  that  the  Aurora  Borealis  is  an   evil  omen  and 
the  threatening  of  an  evil  spirit,  (perhaps  Waziya,    the  Winter-god — some 
say  a  witch,  or  a  very  ugly  old  woman).      When  the  lights  appear,  danger 
threatens,  and  the  warriors  shoot  at,  and  often  slay,  the  evil  spirit,  but  it 
rises  from  the  dead  again. 


NOTES.  129 

27  Se-so-kah — The  Robin. 

28  The  spirit  of  Anpetu-sapa  that  haunts  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  with 
her  dead  babe  in  her  arms.     See  the  Legend  in  Neill's  Hist.  Minn.,  or   my 
"  Legend  of  the  Falls. " 

29  Mee-coonk-shee — My  daughter. 

30  The    Dakotas  call  the    meteor,   "Wakan-denda"  (sacred  fire)    and 
Wakan-wohlpa  (sacred  gift.)     Meteors  are  messengers  from  the  Land  of 
Spirits,  warning  of  impending  danger.      It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the  "sacred 
stone"  of  the  Mohammedans,  in  the  Kaaba  at  Mecca,  is  a  meteoric  stone, 
and  obtains  its  sacred  character  from  the  fact  that  it  fell  from  heaven. 

31  Kah-no-te-dahn — The  little,  mysterious  dweller  in  the  woods.     This 
spirit  lives  in  the  forest  in  hollow  trees.     Mrs.   Eastman's  Dacotah,   Pre. 
Rem.  xxxi.     "The  Dakota  god  of  the  woods — an  unknown  animal  said  to 
resemble    a    man,    which  the  Dakotas  worship:  perhaps,    the  monkey." 
Riggs'  Dakota  Die.  Tit — Canotidan. 

32  The  Dakotas  believe  that  thunder  is  produced  by  the  flapping  of  the 
wings  of  an  immense  bird  which  they  call  Wakfnyan — the  Thunder-bird. 
Near  the  source  of  the  Minnesota  River  is  a  place  called  "Thunder-Tracks" 
where  the  foot-prints  of  a  "Thunder-bird"  are  seen  on  the  rocks  twenty-five 
miles  apart.     Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah,  p.  71.     There  are  many  Thunder- 
birds.  The  father  of  all  the  Thunder-birds — "Wakinyan  Tanka" — or  "Big 
Thunder,"  has  his  teepee  on  a  lofty  mountain  in  the  far  West.     His  tCvpee 
has  four  openings,  at  each  of  which  is  a  sentinel;  at  the  east,  a  butterfly; 
at  the  west,  a  bear;  at  the  south,  a  red  deer;  at  the  north,  a  caribou.     He 
has  a  bitter  enmity  against  Unktehee  (god  of  waters)  and  often  shoots  his 
fiery  arrows  at   him,  and  hits  the  earth,  trees,  rocks,  and  sometimes  men. 
Wakinyan  created  wild-rice,  the  bow  and  arrow,  the  tomahawk  and  the 
spear.     He  is  a  great  war-spirit,  and  Wanmdee  (the  war-eagle)  is  his  mes 
senger.    A  Thunder-bird  (say  the  Dakotas)  was  once  killed  near  Kapoza 
by  the  son  of  Cetan-Wakawa-mani,   and  he  there  upon  took  the   name  of 
"Wakinyan  Tanka  "-"Big  Thunder." 

33  Pronounced  Tah-tahn-kah — Bison  or  Buffalo. 

34  Enah — An  exclamation  of  wonder.      Eho — Behold !  see  there  ! 

35  The  Crees  are  the  Knisteneaux  of  Alexander  Mackenzie.     See  his  ac 
count  of  them,  Mackenzie's  Travels,  (London  1801)  p.  xci  to  cvii. 


130  NOTES. 

36  Lake  Superior.     The  only  names  the  Dakotas  have  for  Lake  Super 
ior  are  Mede  Tanka  cr  Tanka  M^de  -Great  Lake,  and  Me-ne-ya-ta — liter 
ally,  At-the-  Watw. 

37  Anril — Literally,  Laj  moon  when  the  geese  lay  eggs.     See  note  71. 

38  Carver's  Cave  at  St.   Paul  was  called  by  the  Dakotas  "Wakan  Tee 
pee" — ; :  icred  lodge.      In  the  days  that    are  no  more,  they  lighted    their 
Council-fires  in  this  cave,  and  buried  their  dead  near  it.     See  NeilPs  Hist. 
Minn.,  p.  207.     Capt.  Carver  in  his  Travels,  London,  1778,  p.  63,  et.  seq., 
describes  this  cave  as  follows:     "It  is  a  remarkable  cave  of  an  amazing 
depth.     The  Indians  term  it  Wakon-teebe,   that    is,  the  Dwelling  of  the 
Great  Spirit.     The  entrance  into  it  is  about  ten  feet  wide,  the  height  of  it 
five  feet,  the  arch  within  is  near  fifteen  feet  high  and  about  thirty  feet 
broad.     The  bottom  of  it  consists  of  fine  clear  sand.     About  twenty  feet 
from  the  entrance  begins  a  lake,  the  water  of  which  is  transparent,  and  ex 
tends  to  an  unsearchable   distance;  for  the  darkness  of  the  cave  prevents 
all  attempts  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  it.     I  threw  a  small  pebble  towards 
the  interior  parts  of  it  with  my  utmost  strength.     I  could  hear  that  it  fell 
into  the  water,  and  notwithstanding  it  was  of  so  small  a  size,  it  caused  an 
astonishing  and  horrible  noise  that  reverberated  through  all  those  gloomy 
regions.     I  found  in  this  cave  many  Indian  hieroglyphics,  which  appeared 
very  ancient,  for  time  had  nearly  covered  them  with  moss,  so  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  I  could  trace  them.     They  were  cut  in  a  rude  manner  upon 
the  inside  of  the  walls,  which  were  composed  of  a  stone  so  extremely  soft 
that  it  might  be   easily  penetrated  with  a  knife :  a  stone  everywhere  to  be 
found  near  the  Mississippi.     This  cave  is  only  accessible  by  ascending  a 
narrow,  steep  passage  that  lies  near  the  brink  of  the  river.     At  a  little  dis 
tance  from  this   dreary  cavern   is   the   burying-place   of  several    bands  of 
the   Naudowessie    (Dakota)    Indians. "     Many  years  ago  the   roof  fell  in, 
but  the  cave  has  been  partially  restored  and  is  now  used  as  a  beer  cellar. 

39  Wah-kahn-dee — The  lightning. 

40  The  Bloody  River — the  Red  River  was  so-called  on  account  of  the 
numerous  Indian  battles  that  have  been  fought  on  its  banks.     The  Chip- 
pewas  say  that  its  waters  were  colored  red  by  the  blood  of  many  warriors 
slain  on  its  banks  in  the  fierce  wars  between  themselves  and  the  Dakotas. 

41  Tah — The  Moose.     This  is  the  root-word  for  all  ruminating  animals; 


NOTES.  131 

Ta-tanka,  buffalo — Ta-t  6k  a, -mountain  antelome — IVhinca,  the  red-deer — 
Ta-mddka,  the  buck-deer — T  >-hinca-ska,  white-ileer  (sheep). 

42  Hogahn — Fish.     Red  Hogan,  the  trout. 

43  Tipsa"na  (often  called  tipsinnd),  is  a  wild  prairie-turnip  used  for  footf 
by  the  Dakota^.      It  grows  on  high,  dry  land,  and   increases  from  year  to 
year.     It  is  eaten  both  cooked  and  raw. 

44  Rio         ,,  ^jr  Tagus),  a  river  of  Spain  and  Portugal. 

45  *       *       *       *       "Bees  of  Trebizond— 
Which  irom  the  sunniest  flowers  that  glad 
With  their  pure  smile  the  gardens  round, 
Draw  venom  forth  that  drives  men  mad. " 

—  Thomas  Moore, 

46  Skee'-skah— The  Wood-duck. 

47  The  Crocus.     I  have  seen  the  prairies  in  Minnesota  spangled  with 
these  beautiful  flowers  in  various  colors  before  the  ground  was  entirely  free 
from  frost.     The  Dacotas  call  them  frost-flowers. 

48  The  "Sacred   Ring"   around  the  feast  of  the  Virgins  is  formed  by 
armed  warriors  sitting,  and   none  but   a  virgin  must   enter  this  ring.     The 
warrior  who  knows  is  bound  on  honor,  and  by  old  and  sacred    custom, 
to  expose  and  publicly  denounce  any  tarnished  maiden  who  dares  to  enter 
this  ring,  and  his  word  can  not  be    questioned — even  by  the  chief.     See 
Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah,  p.  64. 

49  Prairie's  Pride. — This  annual  shrub,  which  abounds  on  many  of  the 
sandy  prairies  in  Minnesota,  is  sometimes  called  "tea-plant, "  "sage-plant," 
and  "red-root   willow."     I  doubt  if  it  has  any  botanic  name.     Its   long 
plumes  of  purple  and  gold  are  truly  the  "pride  of  the  prairies." 

50  The  Dakotas  consider  white   cedar  "Wakan,"  (sacred).     They  use 
sprigs  of  it  at  their  feasts,  and  often   burn  it  to  destroy  the  power  of  evil 
spirits.     Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah,  p.  210. 

51  Tahkoo-skahng-skahng. — This  deity  is  supposed  to  be  invisible,  yet 
everywhere  present;  he  is  an   avenger  and  a  searcher  of  hearts.     (NeilFs 
Hist.    Minn.,   p.  57.)     I  suspect  he   was  the  chief  spirit  of  the  Dakotas 
before  the  missionaries  imported  "Wakan  Tanka" — (Great  Spirit). 

52  The   Dakotas  believe  in  "were-wolves"  as  firmly  as  did  our  Saxon 


132  NOTES. 

ancestors  and  for  similar  reasons — the  howl  of  the  wolf  being  often  imitated 
as  a  decoy  or  signal  by  their  enemies,  the  Ojibways. 

53  Shee-shd-kah— The  Robin. 

54  The  Dakotas  call  the  Evening  Star  the  "  Virgin  Star,"  and  believe  it 
to  be  the  spirit  of  the  virgin  wronged  at  the  feast. 

55  Mille  Lacs.     This  lake  was  discovered  by  Dul ,uth,  and  by  him  named 
Lac  Buade,  in  honor   of  Governor   Frontenac   of  Canada,   whose   family 
name  was  Buade.     The  Dakota  name  for  it  is  Mde  Wakan — Spirit  Lake. 

56  The  Ojibways  imitate  the  hoot  of  the  owl  and  the  howl  of  the  wolf 
to  perfection,  and  often  use  these  cries  as  signals  to  each  other  in  war  and 
the  chase. 

57  The  Dakotas  called    the  Ojibways  the  "Snakes  of  the   Forest,"  on 
account  of  their  lying  in  ambush  for  their  enemies. 

58  Strawberries.      59  See-yo — The  Prairie-hen. 

60  Mahgah — The  Wild-goose.      Fox-pups.     I  could  never  see    the  pro 
priety  of  calling  the  young  of  foxes  kits  or  kittens,  which  mean  little  cats. 
The  fox  belongs  to  the  canis,  or  dog  family,  and  not  the  fe/is,  or  cat  family. 
If  it  is  proper  to  call  the  young  of  dogs   and   wolves  pups,  it  is  equally 
proper  to  so  call  the  young  of  foxes. 

6 1  When  a  Dakota  is  sick  he  thinks  the  spirit  of  an  enemy  or  some  ani 
mal  has  entered  into  his  body,  and  the  principal  business  of  the  "medicine 
man" —  Wicasta  Wakan — is  to  cast  out  the  "unclean  spirit, "  with  incanta 
tions  and  charms.     See  Neill's  Hist.  Minn.,    pp.  66—8.      The  Jews  enter 
tained  a  similar  belief  in  the  days  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

62  Wah-zee'-yah's  star — The   North-star.     See  note  3. 

63  The  Dakotas,  like  our  forefathers  and  all   other  barbarians,  believe  in 
witches  and  witchcraft. 

64  The  Medo  is  a  wild  potato ;  it  resembles  the  sweet-potato  in  top  and 
taste.     It  grows  in  bottom-lands,  and  is  much  prized  by  the  Dakotas  for 
food.     The  "Dakota  Friend,"  for  December,  1850. 

65  The  meteor — Wakan-denda — Sacred  fire. 

66  Meetahwin — My  bride. 

67  Stoke — The  body  of  a  tree.     This  is  an  old  English  word  of  Saxon 
origin,  now  changed  to  stock. 


NOTES.  133 

68  The  Via  Lactea  or  Milky  Way.     The  Dakotas  call  it  Wanagce-Tach. 
anku — The  path-way  of  the  spirits;  and  believe  that  over  this  path  the  spirits 
of  the  dead  pass  to  the  Spirit-land.     See  Riggs'  Tah-koo  Wah-kan,  p.  101. 

69  Oon-Ktay-he.     There  are   many   Unkte'hees,  children   of  the  Great 
Unktehee,  who  created  the  earth  and  man,  and   who  formerly  dwelt  in  a 
vast  cavern    under  the  Falls  of  St.   Anthony.     The   Unkte'hee  sometimes 
reveals  himself  in  the  form  of  a  huge  buffalo-bull.     From  him  proceed  in 
visible  influences.     The  Great  Unktehee  created  the  earth.     "Assembling 
in  grand  conclave  all  the  aquatic  tribes  he  ordered  them  to  bring  up  dirt 
from  beneath  the  waters,  and  proclaimed  death  to  the  disobedient.     The 
beaver  and  otter  forfeited  their  lives.     At  last  the  mtiskrat  went  beneath 
the  waters,  and,  after  a  long  time,  appeared  at  the  surface,  nearly  exhaust 
ed,  with  some  dirt.      From  this,  Unkte'hee  fashioned  the  earth  into  a  large 
circular  plain.     The  earth   being  finished,  he  took  a  deity,  one  of  his  own 
offspring,  and  grinding  him  to  powder,  sprinkled  it  upon  the  earth,  and  this 
produced  many  worms.     The  worms  were  then   collected  and   scattered 
again.     They  matured  into  infants  and  these  were  then  collected  and  scat 
tered  and  became   full-grown  Dakotas.     The  bones  of  the  mastodon,  the 
Dakotas  think   are  the  bones  of  Unkte'hees,  and  they   preserve  them  with 
the  greatest  care  in  the  medicine  bag."     Neill's  Hist.   Minn.,  p.  55.      The 
Unktehees  and  the  Thunder-birds  are  perpetually  at  war.     There  are  vari 
ous  accounts  of  the  creation  of  man.     Some  say  that  at  the  bidding  of  the 
Great  Unkte'hee,   men   sprang  full  grown  from  the   caverns  of  the  earth. 
See  Riggs'  "Tah-koo    Wahkan,  and  Mrs.  Eastman's  Dacotah.     The  Great 
Unkte'hee  and  the  Great  Thunder-bird  had  a  terrible  battle  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth  to  determine  which  should  be  the  ruler  of  the  world.     See 
description  in  Legend  of  Winona. 

70  Pronounced  Ahng-pay-too-wee — The  Sun  ;  literally  the  Day-Sun,  thus 
distinguishing  him  from  Han-ye'-tuwee  (Hahng-y ay-too-wee)  the  night  sun, 
(the  moon).     They  are  twin  brothers,  but  Anpe'tuwee  is  the  more  power 
ful.      Han-ye-tuvvee  receives  his  power  from  his   brother  and  obeys  him. 
He  watches  over  the  earth  while  the  sun  sleeps.     The  Dakotas  believe  the 
sun  is  the  father  of  life.      Unlike  the  most  of  their  other  gods,  he  is  benefi 
cent  and  kind;  yet  they  worship  him  (in  the  sun-dance)  in  the  most  dread 
ful  manner.      See  Riggs'  "Takhoo  Wakan,"  pp.  81-2,  and   Catlin's  "Okee- 


134  NOTES. 

pa. "  The  moon  is  worshipped  as  the  representative  of  the  sun;  and  in  the 
great  Sun-dance,  which  is  usually  held  in  the  full  of  the  moon,  when  the 
moon  rises  the  dancers  turn  their  eyes  on  her  (or  him).  Anpetuwee  issues 
every  morning  from  the  lodge  of  Han-nan-na  (the  Morning)  and  begins  his 
journey  over  the  sky  to  his  lodge  in  the  land  of  shadows.  Sometimes  he 
walks  over  on  the  Bridge  (or  path)  of  the  Spirits — Wanagee  Ta-chan-ku, — 
and  sometimes  he  sails  over  the  sea  of  the  skies  in  his  shining  canoe ;  but 
somehow,  and  the  Dakotas  do  not  explain  how,  he  gets  back  again  to  the 
lodge  of  Hannanna  in  time  to  take  a  nap  and  eat  his  breakfast  before 
starting  anew  on  his  journey.  The  Dakotas  swear  by  the  sun,  "As  Aupe- 
tu-wee  hears  me,  this  u  true!"  They  call  him  Father  and  pray  to  him 
-"  Wakan!  Ate,  on-^he-ma-da.  "  "Sacred  Spirit, — Father,  have  mercy  on 
me. "  As  the  Sun  is  the  father,  so  they  believe  the  Earth  is  the  mother,  of 
life.  Tuily  ;  'V'e  is  much  philosop.v  in  the  Dakota  mythology.  The  Al- 
gonkins  ca1!  tr  t  irth  " Me-suk -7  xm-mik-o-kwa" — tin  <i;reat  grandmother  of 
all.  Narrative  John  Tanner,  p.  193. 

71  The  Dakotas  reckon  their  months  by  moons.  Fi^y  nam«i  their  moons 
from  natural  OK  eumstan  3s.  They  correspond  very  nearly  with  our  months, 
as  follows : 

January — Wee-te-rhee — The  Hard  Moon,  i.  e  —the  cold  moon. 

Fcl  --iary — "W;        N  "~-      f* — The  Coon  Mo<  u. 

Maroii. — is*  - .  ca->  .anp-wee — the  sore-eyes  mo^n  (from  snow  blind 
ness.) 

April — VLagfi  .>ka-da,  vve^ — the  moon  when  the  geese  lay  eggs;  also  called 
\Vokada-wee — egg-moor  and  sometimes  Watd-papee-wee,  the  canoe-moon, 
or  moon  when  the  streams  become  free  from  ice. 

May-  W6-zu-pee-wee — the  planting  moon. 

June — S«./.u-ste-t.          wee — the  strawberry  moon. 

July — Wa  '  -pa-  vcc — moon  when  the  geese  shed  their  feathers,  also 
called  Cha'^g-pr  .a^a-wee — Choke-Cherry  moon,  and  sometimes — Mna- 
rcha-rcha-wec—  The  moon  of  the  red-blooming  lilies, "  literally,  the  red- 
lily  moon. 

August — Wasii-ton-wee — the  ripe  moon  i.  e.  Harvest  Moon. 

September — Psin-na-ke-tu-wee — the  ripe-rice  moon. 

October — Wa-zu-pee-wee  or  Wee-w-azu-pee — the  moon  when  wild-rice  is 
gathered  and  laid  up  for  winter. 


NOTES.  135 

November — Ta-kee-yu-hra-wee — the  deer-rutting  moon. 

December — Ta-he-cha-psing-wee — the  moon  when  deer  shed  their  horns. 

72  Oonk-to-mee — is  a  "bad  spirit"  in  the   form  of  a  monstrous  black 
spider.     He  inhabits  fens  and  marshes  and  lies  in  wait  for  his  prey.     At 
night  he  often  lights  a  torch  (evidently  the  ignis  fatuus  or  Jack-a-lantern) 
and  swings  it  on  the  marshes  to  decoy  the  unwary  into  his  toils. 

73  The  Dakotas  have  their  stone-idol,  or  god,  called  Toon-kan — or  In- 
yan.     This  god  dwells  in  stone  or  rocks  and   is,  they  say,  the  oldest  god  of 
all — he  is  grandfather  of  all  living  things.      I  think,  however,  that  the  stone 
is  merely  the  symbol  of  the  e^    tasting,  all  pervading,  invisible  Ta-ku  Wa 
kan — the  essence    of  all  li^     -pervading  all   nature,  animate  and    inani 
mate.     The  Rev.  S.  R.  ,s  who,  for   forty  years,  has  been   a  student  of 
Dakota  customs,  sm»            /  s,  etc.,  says,  "Tahkoo  Wahkan,"  p.  55,  pf  seq. 
"The  religious  faith             Dakota  is  not  in  his  gods  as  such.      f     .-,    ,  an  in 
tangible,  mysterio v    .-•     ie  i   ng  of  which  they   are  oir;      he   civ'  jdiment, 
and  that  in   such  men  "..    and  degree  as  may  accord  with  the  individual 
fancy  of  the  worship^.'.,  r.      Each  one   will  worship  some  of  these  divinities, 
and  neglect  or  despise  others,  but  the  great    object  of  all  their    worship, 
whatever  its  chosen  medium,  is  the  Ta-koo  Wa-kan,  which  is  the  supernatu 
ral  and  mysterious.     No  one  term  can  express  the  full  meaivr      vf 

kota's    Wakan.     It  comprehends  all  mystery,  secret  povv       an     .u\  ;iv4  ; 
Awe  and  reverence  are  its  due,  and  it  is  as  unlimited  in  rn<>  ti<     .at: 
is  in  idea.     All  life  is  Wakan;  so  also  is  everything  whicn      1>;'  vcr, 

whether  in  action,  as  the  winds  and  drifting  cloiu  ;;  or  in  ,,;ssive  i  idu- 
rance,  as  the  boulder  by  the  wayside.  For  even  the  commonest  sticks  and 
stones  have  a  spiritual  essence  which  must  be  reverenced  as  a  mar'  Ca 
tion  of  the  all-pervading,  mysterious  power  that  fills  the  the  "mive 

74  Wazi-kute — Wah-ze-koo-tay;  literally — Pine  shoote,. — ne  mat  shoots 
among  the  pines.     When  Father  Hennepin  w  s  at  Mille  Leu          ,079-80, 
Wazi-kute  was  the  head  Chief  (Itancan)  of  the  band  of  ISL>     ees.     Henne 
pin  writes    his  name — Ouasicoude  and  translates  it — the      Pierced  Pine." 
See  Shea's  Hennepin,  p.  234,  Minn.  Hist.  Coll.  vol.  i,  p.  316. 

75  When  a  Dakota  brave  wishes   to   "propose"  to  a  "dusky  maid,"  he 
visits  her  teepee  at  night  after  she  has  retired,  or  rather,  laid  down  in  her 
robe  to  sleep.     He  lights  a  splinter  of  wood  and  holds  it  to  her  face.     If 


136  NOTES. 

she  blows  out  the  light,  he  is  accepted;  if  she  covers  her  head  and  leaves 
it  burning,  he  is  rejected.  The  rejection  however  is  not  considered  final 
till  it  has  been  thrice  repeated.  Even  then  the  maiden  is  often  bought  of 
her  parents  or  guardian,  and  forced  to  become  the  wife  of  the  re 
jected  suitor.  If  she  accepts  the  proposal,  still  the  suitor  must  buy  her  of 
her  parents  with  suitable  gifts. 

76  The  Dakotas  called  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  the    Ha-Ha — the  loud 
laughing,  or  roaring.     The  Mississippi  River  they  called  Ha-Ha  Wa-kpa — 
River  of  the  Falls.     The  Ojibway   name  for   the    Falls  is   Ka-ka-bih-kiing. 
Minnehaha  is  a  combination  of   two  Dakota  words — Mini — water  and  Ha- 
Ha  -Falls;  .but  it  is  not  the  name  by  which  the   Dakotas  designated  that 
cataract.     Some    authorities  say    they   called    it   I  ha-ha — pronounced  E- 
rhah-rhah — lightly  laughing.      Rev.  S.  W.  Pond,  whose  long  residence  as  a 
missionary  among  the   Dakotas  in   this  immediate  vicinity  makes  him  an 
authority  that  can  hardly  be  questioned,  says  they  called  the  Falls  of  Min 
nehaha  "Mini-i-hrpa-ya-dan,"  and  it  had   no    other  name   in   Dakota.     It 
means  Little  Falls  and  nothing  else."     Letter  to  the  author. 

77  The  game  of  the  Plum- stones  is  one  of  the  favorite  games  of  the  Da 
kotas.     Hennepin  was  the  first  to  describe  this  game  in  his   "Description 
de  la  Louisiane, "  Paris,   1683,  and  he   describes  it  very  accurately.     See 
Shea's   translation  p.    301.     The  Dakotas  call  this  game  Kan-soo  Koo-tay- 
pe — shooting  plum-stones.     Each   stone  is  painted  black  on   one  side  and 
red  on  the  other;  on  one  side  they  grave  certain  figures  which  makes  the 
stones  "Wakan. "     They  are  placed  in  a  dish  and  thrown  up  like  dice;  in 
deed  the  game  is  virtually  a  game   of  dice.      Hennepin   says:  "There  are 
some  so  given  to  this  game  that  they  will  gamble  away   even  their  great 
coat.     Those  who  conduct  the  game   cry  at  the  top  of  their  voices  when 
they  rattle  the  platter  and  they  strike  their  shoulders  so  hard  as  to  leave 
them  all  black  with  the  blows." 

78  Wa'tanka — contraction  of  Wa-kan  Tanka — Great  Spirit.     The  Dako 
tas  had  no  Wakan  Tanka — or  Wakan-peta — fire    spirit — till  whitemen  im 
ported  them.     There  being  no  name  for  the  Supreme  Being  in  the  Dako 
ta  tongue  (except    Tanka  Wakan  —  See   note  73) — and    all  their  gods  and 
spirits  being  Wakan — the    missionaries    named    God  in  Dakota — '•'•Wakan 
Tanka" — which  means  Big  Spirit,  or  The  Big  Mysterious. 


79  The  Dakotas  called  Lake  Calhoun — Mde-mdo-za — Loon  Lake.  They 
also  called  it — Re-ya-ta-mde — the  lake  back  from  the  river.     They  called 
Lake  Harriet — Mde-iinma — the  other  lake — or  (perhaps)  Mde'  lima — Ha 
zel-nut  Lake.     The  lake  nearest  Calhoun  on  the  north — Lake  of  the  Isles 
— they  called   Wi-ta   Mde — Island-Lake.     Lake    Minnetonka  they  called 
Me-me-a-tan-ka — Broad  Water. 

80  The  animal  called  by  the  French    voyageurs    the  cabri    (the  kid)  is 
found  only  on  the  prairies.    It  is  of  the  goat  kind,  smaller  than  a  deer,  and 
so  swift  that  neither  horse  nor  dog  can  overtake  it.     (Snelling's)  "Tales  of 
the  Northwest, "   p.  286,   note  15.      It   is  the   gazelle,  or  prairie  antelope, 
called  by  the  Dakotas  Tato-ka-dan — little  antelope.     It  is  the  Pish-tah-te- 
koosh  of  the  Algonkin  tribes,   "reckoned  the   fleetest  animal  in    the  prairie 
country  about  the  Assinneboin. "     Captivity  and  Adventures  of  John  Tan 
ner,  p.  301. 

8 1  The  Wicastapi  Wakanpi  (literally,  men  supernatural)  are  the  "Medi 
cine-men"  or  Magicians  of  the  Dakotas.     They  call  themselves  the  sons 
or  disciples  of  Unktehee.     In  their  rites,  ceremonies,  tricks  and  preten 
sions  they  closely  resemble  the  Dactyli.  Idae   and  Curetes  of  the  ancient 
Greeks  and  Romans,  the  Magi  of  the  Persians,  and  the  Druids  of  Britain. 
Their  pretended  intercourse  with  spirits,  their  powers  of  magic  and  divin 
ation,  and  their  rites  are  substantially  the  same,  and  point  unmistakably  to 
a  common  origin.     The  Dakota  "Medicine-Man"  can  do  the  "rope-trick" 
of  the  Hindoo  magician  to  perfection.     The  teepee  used  for  the  Wakan 
Wacipee — or  Sacred  Dance — is  called  the  Wakan  Teepee — the  Sacred  Tee 
pee.     Carver's  Cave  at  St.  Paul  was   also  called  Wakan   Teepee,  because 
th;iaude  Alice-men  or  magicians    often  held  their  dances  and  feasts  in  it. 
For  a  full  account  of  the  rites,  etc.,  see  Riggs'  "Tahkoo  Wahkan,  Chapter 
VI.     The  Ta-sha-ke — literally,  "Deer-hoofs" — is  a  rattle  made  by  hanging 
the  hard  segments  of  deer-hoofs  to  a  wooden  rod  a  foot  long — about  an 
inch  in  diameter  at  the  handle  end,   and  tapering  to  a  point  at  the  other. 
The  clashing  of  these  horny  bits  makes  a  sharp,  shrill  sound  something  like 
distant  sleigh-bells.     In  their  incantations  over  the  sick  they  sometimes 
use  the  gourd-shell  rattle. 

The  Chan-che-ga — is  a  drum  or  "Wooden  Kettle."     The   hoop  of  the 
drum  is  from  a  foot  to  eighteen  inches  in   diameter,  and  from  three  to  ten 

9* 


138 


ii.  -1  »or  one  end,  making  a  drum 

witii      .e  ci«  *  sticks  are  ornamented  with  down, 

and   heads  of   L      jtfk  -*re  '^r'red  on  them      This  makes  them 

A^  n  T\ 

The  flute  called  Cho-tanka  (big  pith)  is  of  two  varieties — one  made  of  su- 

vTac,  the  pith  of  which  is  punched  out,   etc.     The  «p  "e 

»»  long  bone  of  the  wing  or  thigh  of  the   :  ^    call 

LI^C  nrcf  r  clwtanka,  from   the  tremulous          „  ,L  gives  when 

.ie  noies  stopped.     Riggs'  Tahkoo  Wahkan,  p.  476,  et  seq. 

E-ne-pee — vapor-bath,  is  used  TS  a  purification  preparatory  to  the  sacred 
feasts.  The  vapor  bath  is  taken  in  this  way:  "A  number  of  poles, 
the  size  of  hoop-poles  or  less  are  taken,  and  their  larger  ends  being  set  in 
the  ground  in  a  circle,  the  flexible  tops  are  benj  over  and  tied  in  the  centre. 
This  frame  work  is  then  covered  with  robes  and  blankets,  a  small  hole  be 
ing  left  on  one  side  for  an  entrance.  Before  the  door  a  fire  is  built,  and 
round  stones,  about  the  size  of  a  man's  head,  are  heated  in  it.  When  hot, 
they  are  rolled  within,  and  the  door  being  closed,  steam  is  made  by  pour 
ing  water  on  them.  The  devotee,  stripped  to  the  skin,  sits  within  this 
steam-tight  dome,  sweating  profusely  at  every  pore,  until  he  is  nearly  surfa 
ce  f^d.  Sometimes  a  number  engage  in  it  together  and  unite  their  prayers 
and  s^.  gs."" Tahkoo  Wakan, "  p.  83.  Father  Hennepin  was  subjected  to 
r1  ,  u.por-bath  at'Mille  Lacs  by  Chie/  Aqui-pa-que-t1 '  ./  hundred  years 
ago.  After  describing  the  method,  Hennepin  s.  When  he  had  made 

me  sweat  thus  three  times  in  a  week,  I  felt  as  s  .rong  as  ever. "  QU  's 
Hennepin,  p.  228.  For  a  very  full  and  ac-  irate  account  >- 

men  of  the  Dakotas,  and  their  rites,  etc.,  se^  Tu-  "-yen  t-heir  gr.ll- 

nesota. 


82  The  sacred  O-zu-h- 
the  otter,  the  coon,  the  w 
or  the  skins  of  serpents     I 
representing  birds,  beasts,  ] 
swan  colored  red,  the  n 
trees,  an'1   hair  of  ' 
kan  in?iaen.;e   so  povverfu1 
Wonderful  indeed  must  Li- 
lead   such   a   man  as  th- 


jf   the  skin  of 

ertain  kind  of  fish, 

-o  of  medicine  (or  magic) 

.     The  i"own  of  the  female 

^es,  ba  k  from  the  roots  o.f  cedar 

this  c  juibinai  311  pi     -eeds  a  Wa  - 

uman  being,  unassi.  ^ev  re^'st  it." 

.agic  pow.i  of  these    Dakc    ..   Druids  to 

S.   R.  Riggs    o  say  of  them:     "ly  great 


NOTES.  139 

shrewdness,  untiring  industry,  and  more  or  less  of  actual  deinoniacoi posses 
sion,  they  convince  great  numbers  of  their  fellows,  and  m*the  process  are 
convinced  themselves,  of  their  sacred  character  an  I  office. "  Tahkoo  Wak- 

an,  pp.  £8—9 

83  (j'ah-ma-na-tek-wahk — the  river  of  many  falls — is  the  Ojibway  name 
of  the  river  commonly  called  Kaministiguia,  near  the  mouth  of  which  is  situ 
ate  Fort  V  ,ll,;jm,  )*i  the  site  of  DuLuth'sold  fort.    The  view  on  Thunder- 
Bay  is  one  of  th^  £  andest  in  America.    Thunder-Cap,  with  its  sleeping  stone- 
giant,  looms  up  into  the  heavens.     Here  Ka-be-bon-ikka — the    Ojibwav's 
god  of  storms,  flaps  his  huge  wings  and  makes  the  Thunder.     From  this 
mountain  he  sends  forth  the  rain,  the  snow,  the  hail,  the  lightning  and  the 
tempest.     A  vast  giant,  turned  to  stone  by  his  magic,  lies  asleep   at  his 
feet.     The  island  called  by  the  Ojibways  the  Mak-i-nak  (the  turtle)  from 
its  tortoise-like  shape,  lifts  his  huge  form  in  the  distance.     Some  "down- 
east  "Yankee,  called  it  "Pie-Island, "  from  its  (to  his  hungry  imagination) 
fancied  resemblance  to  a  pumpkin  pie,  and  the  name,  like  all  bad  names, 
sticks.     McKay's  Mountain  on  the  main-land,  a  perpendicular  rock  more 
than  a  thousand  feet  high,  up-heaved  by  the  throes  of  some  vast  volcano, 
and  numerous  other  bold  and  precipitous  head-lands,  and  rock-built  islands, 
around  which  roll  the  sapphire-blue  waters  of  the  fathomless  bay,  present 
some  of  the  most  magnificent  views  to  be  found  on  either  continent. 

84  The   Mission  of  the  Holy  Ghost— at   La  Pointe,  on  the  isle  \Vang--:r- 
ba-me — (winding  view)  in  the  beautiful  bay  of  Cha-quam-egon — was  found 
ed  by  the  Jesuits   about  the  year   166-      id  Father  Rene  Menard  was  the 
first  priest  at  this  point.     After  he  was    lost    in    the    wilderness,   Father 
Glaude  Allouez  permanently  es  ablished  the  mission  in  1665.     The  famous 
Father  Marquette,  who  took  Allouez's  place,  Copt.  13,  1669,  writing  to  his 
Superior,  thus  describes  the  Dakotas:    "The  Nadouessi  are  the  Iroquois  of 
this  country,  beyond  La  Pointe,  but  less  faithless,  and  never  attack  till  at 
tacked.     Their  language  is  entirely  different  from  the  Huron  and  Algon 
quin.     They  have  many  villages,  but  are  widely    scattered.     They  have 
very  extraordinary  customs.     They  principally  use  the  calumet.     They  do 
not  speak  at  great  feasts,  and  when  a  stranger  arrive'-  give  him  to  u  *•  ofa- 
wooden  foi  ^,  as  we  would  a  child.     All  the  •   ::e  tribes  make  war  on  them, 
but  with  small  success.     They  have  false  oats,  (    ild  rice)  use  little  canoes, 
and  keep  their  word  strictly.1"     Neill's  Hist.  Minrs.,  p.  in. 


HO  NOTES. 

85  Michabo — the  Good,  Great  Spirit  of  the  Algonkins.     In  Autumn,  in 
the  moon  of  the  falling  leaf,  ere  he  composes  himself  to  his  winter's  sleep, 
he  fills  his  great  pipe  and  takes  a  god-like  smoke.     The  balmy  clouds  from 
his  pipe  float  over  the  hills  and  woodland,  filling  the  air  with  the  haze  of 
"Indian  Summer."     Brinton's  Myths  of  the  New  World,  p.  163. 

86  Pronounced   Kah-tJiah-gah-  -literally,    the  place   of  waves  and  foam. 
This  was  the  principal  village  of  the  Isantee  band  of  Dakotas  two  hundred 
years  ago,  and  was  located  at  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  which  the  Dakotas 
called    the    Ha-ha, — pronounced  Rhah-rhah, — the  loud,  laughing  waters. 
The  Dakotas  believed  that  the  Falls  were  in  the  centre  of  the  earth.   Here 
dwelt  the  Great  Unktehee,  the  creator  of  the  earth  and  man;  and  from 
this  place  a  path  led  to  the  Spirit-land.     DuLuth  undoubtedly  visited  Ka- 
thaga  in  the  year  1679.      ^n  ms  "Memoir"  (Archives  of  the  Ministry  of  the 
Marine)  addressed  m  Seignelay,  1685,  he  says:   "On  the  2nd  of  July,  1679, 
I  had  the  honor  to  plant  his  Majesty's  arms  in  the  great  village  of  the  Na- 
douecioux  called  Izatys,  where  never  had  a  Frenchman  be-  n,  ofc. "  Izatys 
is  here  used  not  as  the  name  of  the  village,  but  as  the  name  of  the  band— the 
Isantees.  Nadouecioux  was  a  name  given  the  Dakotas  generally  by  the  ear 
ly  French  traders  and  the  Ojibways.     See  Shea's  Hennepin's  Description 
of  ^ouisiana  pp:  203  and  375.   The  villages  of  the  Dakotas  were  not  perma 
nent  tovvns.     They  were  hardly  more  than  camping  grounds,  occupied  at 
intervals  and  for  longer  or  shorter  periods,   as  suited  the  convenience  of 
the  hunters;  yet  there  were  certain  places,  like  Mille  Lacs,  the  Falls  of  St. 
Anthony,  Kapdza  (near  St.  Paul),  Remnica,  (where  the  city  of  Red  Wing 
now  stands),  and  Keiixa  (or  Keoza)  on  the  site  of  the  city  of  Winona,  so 
frequently  occupied  by  several  of  the  bands  as   to  be    considered  their 
chief  villages  respectively. 


J^OTES  TO  THE  SEA-GULL 


1  Kay-oshk  is  the  Ojibway  name  of  Sea-Gull. 

2  Gitchee — great, — Gumee — sea  or    lake, — Lake    Superior;  also   often 
called  Ochi'pwe  Gitchee  Giimee,  Great  Lake  (or  sea)  of  the  Ojibways. 

3  Ne'-me-^'    mis — my  grandfather.      "In  the  days  of  my  Grandfather"  is 
the  Ojibwa    .  preface  to  all  his  traditions  and  legends. 

4  Waub-   white, — O-jeeg, — fisher,  (a  furred  animal.)     White  Fisher  was 
the  name  of  a  noted  Chippewa  Chief  who  lived  on  the  south  shore  of  Lake 
Superior  many  years  ago.     Schoolcraft  married  one  of  his  descendant. 

^  Ma-kwa  or  mush-kwa — the  bear. 

6  The  Te-ke-nah-gun  is  a  board  upon  one  side  of  which  a  sort  of  basket 
is  fastened  or  woven  with  thongs  of  skin  or  strips  of  cloth.   In  this  the  babe 
is  placed,  and  the  mother  carries  it  on  her  back.     In  the  wigwam  the  teke- 
nagun  is  often  suspended  by  a  cord  to  the  lodge-poles  and  the    mother 
swings  her  babe  in  it. 

7  Wabose — the  rabbit.     Penay,  the  pheasant.     At  certain  seasons  the 
pheasant  drums  with  his  wings. 

8  Kaug,  the  porcupine.     Kenew,  the  war-eagle. 

9  Ka-be-bon-ik-ka  is  the  god  of  storms,  thunder,  lightning,  etc.   His  home 
is  on  Thunder-Cap  at  Thunder-Bay,    Lake  Superior.     By   his  magic,   the 
giant  that  lies  on  the  mountain  was    turned  to  stone.      He  always   sends 
warnings  before  he  finally  sends  the  severe  cold  of  winter,  in  order  to  give 
all  creatures  time  to  prepare  for  it. 


142  NOTES  TO  THE  SEA-GULL. 

10  Kewaydin  or  Kewaytin,  is  the  North-wind  or  North-west  wind. 

1 1  Algonkin   is  the  general  name   applied  to   all   tribes  that  speak  the 
Ojibway  language  or  dialects  of  it. 

12  This  is  the  favorite  "love-broth"  of  the  Ojibway  squaws.     The  war 
rior  who  drinks  it  immediately  falls  desperately  in  love  with  the  woman 
who  gives  it  to  him.     Various  tricks  are  devised  to  conceal  the  nature  of 
the  "medicine"  and   to  induce    the    warrior    to  drink    it;  but  when    it  is 
mixed  with  a  liberal  quantity  of  "fire-water"  it  is  considered  irresistable. 

13  Translation  :.      Woe-is-me  !     Woe-is-me  ! 

Great  Spirit,  behold  me ! 

Look,  Father;  have  pity  upon  me! 

Woe-is-me !     Woe-is-me ! 

14  Snow-storms  from  the  North-west. 

15  The  Ojibways,  like  the  Dakotas,  call  the  Via  Lactea  (Milky  Way)  the 
Pathway  of  the  Spirits. 

1 6  Shingebis,  the  diver,  is  the  only  water-fowl  that  remains  about  Lake 
Superior  all  winter.     See  Schoolcraft's  Hiawatha  Legends,  p.  113. 

17  Waub-e'se — the  white  swan. 

1 8  Pe-boan,  Winter,  is  represented  as  an  old  man  with  long  white  hair 
and  beard. 

19  Se-giin  is  Spring   or  Summer.     This    beautiful    allegory   has    been 
"done  into  verse"  by  Longfellow  in  Hiawatha.     I  took  my  version  from 
the  lips  of  an  old  Chippewa  Chief.      I  have  compared  it  with  Schoolcraft's 
version,  from  which  Mr.  Longfellow  evidently  took  his. 

20  Nah — look,  see.     Nashke — behold. 

21  Kee-zis — the  sun, — the  father  of  life.     Waubunong — or  Waub-6-nong 
—is  the  White  Land  or  Land  of  Light, — the  Sun-rise,  the  East. 

22  The  Bridge  of  Stars  spans  the  vast  sea  of  the  skies,  and  the  sun  and 
moon  walks  over  on  it. 

23  The  Miscodeed  is  a  small  white  flower  with  a  pink  border.      It  is  the 
earliest  blooming  wild-flower  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Superior,  and  belongs 
to  the  crocus  family. 


NOTES  TO  THE  SEA  -  GULL. 


143 


24  The  Ne-be-naw-baigs,  are  Water-spirits;  they  dwell  in  caverns  in  the 
depths  of  the  lake,  and  in  some  respects  resemble  the  Unkte'hees  of  the 
Dakotas. 

25  Ogema,  Chief, — Ogema-kwa — female  Chief.     Among  the    Algonkin 
tribes  women  are  sometimes  made  chiefs.     Wet-no-kwa,  who  adopted  Tan 
ner  as  her  son,  was  Oge-ma-kwa  of  a  band  of  Ottawas.     See  John  Tanner's 
Narrative,  p.  36. 

26  The  "Bridge  of  Souls"  leads  from  the  earth  over  dark  and  stormy 
waters  to  the  Spirit-land.     The  "Dark  River"  seems  to  have  been  a  part 
of  the  superstition  of  all  nations. 

27  The  Jossakeeds  of  the  Ojibways  are  sooth-sayers  who  are  able,  by 
the  aid  of  spirits,  to  read  the  past  as  well  as  the  future. 


ERRATA. 

[Will  the  reader  please  correct  the  following  errors  of  the  printers.     I  regret  to  rind 

them   so  numerous.  I    presume    there   are   others   I    have   overlooked   in   my   hasty 
reading. — H.  L.  G.] 

Page  31,  line  24 — Read  eyes  instead  of  eye. 

52,  18  "       "are  fathomed"  instead  of  is,  etc. 

"      62,      "     26-29  "       montees  instead  of  moutees. 

64,  13  sip  instead  of  sipped. 
"      64,     "     23  "       Wa'tanka.78 

65,  29  "      eagle- winged,  instead  of  fag/ed-wmgcd. 
"      68,     "     22  "       Unktehee,  instead  of  Untehee. 

"      69,  5  ''let  the  word  of  a  warrior  be  sacred." 

69,  6  "be  \\&  friend  of  the  band  or  a  foeman." 

"      72,     "17  u       Niwdste,  instead  of  Wiivaste. 

"      74,     "      13  "       "Till  away  in  the  bend  of  the  stream." 
74,           29  IVakdn  instead  of  Wakdn. 

81,  23  "dreamy  haze, "  instead  of  "dreary  haze. " 

"      86,     •'     20  "       Ta-te-psin,  instead  of  Ma-te-psin 

"    133,  4  Oonk-tdy-hee  instead  of  Oon-Ktay-he. 

"    134,     '       35  "       Wee-wa-zu-pee. 

"    135,  2  "        Ta-he-cha-psung-'wce. 

"    136,  12  "       I -ha- ha. 

''    136,  23  il       ''  WJiich  make."  instead  of  ''''which  makes. " 

''    136,  33  Td-ku    Wakan.  instead  of  Tanka  Wakan. 

"    137,  6  Me-«£-a-tan-ka. 

''    139,  14  ^its  huge  form,"  in  lieu  ot  "/its, "  etc. 

''    142.       '     29  "       "walk  instead  of  walks. 

'    143,     "       5  A^-no-kwa,  instead  of  Wr/-no-kwa 


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